


A Simple Task

by infiniterider



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 34,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniterider/pseuds/infiniterider
Summary: Nothing is ever simple with the IMF.





	1. The Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rookie gets her assignment.

"It's a simple task, Jeanette. Track the target, mark him, and get out. Simple."

The young woman shook her head. "I still don't understand, Jeff," she said. "How... Can you really do this? I mean..."

Jeff smiled at her. "Of _course_ I can, what are you talking about? I work for the CIA, do you think I'd be _doing_ it if it wasn't allowed?"

"But-"

"I'm a trainer, I have the authority to put you in the field, don't worry about that."

Jeanette shook her head again, looking up into Jeff's warm blue eyes. "But, Jeff, I'm just a Finance clerk!"

"Senior Finance _Lead_ ," he corrected. "Don't sell yourself short."

"You _know_ I'm not doing that," she answered. "You know how I feel about that department, where I ought to be after five years. But, Jeff, when I said I should get out of the dead end and try for field work, I thought I'd have to apply and do some kind of test, and get a _lot_ more training than-"

"So, you have a friend in high places," he said with a smile. Jeanette found herself smiling in response - his smile was always infectious. "I told you, I pulled some strings so you can do this trial run. You know what I think about you and the field. I figure if you go out there and see how hard it can be, you'll come to your senses."

"Oh, thanks a lot," she said with a frown. "You're my..." She glanced around, even though she knew no one was in the room. "You're supposed to support me, not hope for me to fail!"

"I'm _not_ hoping you fail, babe," he said. 

"You _just_ said-"

"Let's not argue, okay?" he said seriously. "You wanted to try field work, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well, this is your chance!"

"But, Jeff, I've only been training for _two_ days, and you want me to track and tag someone in another country! I don't even know more than a tourist's amount of French. It seems like a field agent sh-"

"Look, that's exactly why we're using you, Jeanie. That's the whole point! People fully trained in the field carry themselves a certain way, and our target knows that."

"But-"

"Jeanette, why don't you _stop_ arguing with me!" She pursed her lips, feeling heat rise to her face. Jeff gave her an apologetic look and ran a hand through his hair, displacing the sandy waves. "I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry. Look, do you want to help your country or don't you?"

"Of _course_ I do, Jeff, but-"

"Then _this_ is how you do it." Jeanette kept her mouth shut, but she was extremely uneasy about the whole situation. "Listen, Jeanette," he said in a friendly tone. "I know you're nervous about this, but there's really nothing to worry about. This guy, Jameson, he's a white collar criminal. Totally non-violent. We're just after him for some connections he has to a bigger fish."

"Right, okay," Jeanette said, still feeling a little nervous. 

"I guarantee, _you've_ had more gun range experience than he has."

"Wait, am I taking a _gun?_ " she asked worriedly.

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "There won't be any need for that. You're not going to get that close. You're just going to use the lens-cam to take his picture, send it back to us, and then stick to him until we send a team in to capture him. That's it. It's a walk in the park."

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. This was do-able. After all, it wasn't as if she was joining the _real_ manhunt that had been going on since they disbanded the IMF. Whispers of "Hunt is still at large" had been finding their way even down to the clerical floor. Nobody but the inner circles knew what he looked like, and even if they did, what difference would it make? He was IMF. They were wizards - able to become totally different people in a matter of minutes. 

Jeanette didn't have to deal with any of that. This was just some random paper pusher that had been pushing money his own way, and knew something about someone else. Her "handler" (it felt funny thinking of herself having one) was right. It was a walk in the park. "Okay," she said again. "I can do this."

"Of course you can." Jeff smiled at her and pulled her close. Jeanette lifted her face to his, and he kissed her and hugged her tight, tickling her with the short, salt-and-pepper beard she'd given up trying to convince him to shave. "You're going to do _just_ fine, babe," he said. "I know I give you a hard time, but I have every confidence in you. Just memorize that face and the alternates we gave you, and you'll be fine."


	2. Amateur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette stalks her prey.

Jeanette was dropped off at a Parisian bar where sources reported the target had recently been seen. She wore a modest "costume", a charcoal gray pin striped suit with light gray blouse and sensible shoes (special Agency shoes designed with extra thick, comfortable soles and ridged rubber heels, while looking like an average businesswoman's shoe). Her dark brown locs reached down to her shoulder blades, and were tied back in a simple ponytail. Overall, she looked like a working woman stopping at a bar after a long day at the office.

She was completely decked out with tech that she'd never dreamed of using. She had a lens cam - the tiny camera that could be placed directly over one's eye like a contact lens. It had been updated in the last year to allow the wearer to see out of both eyes. She remembered when the tech division had come up with a way to connect the camera glasses to cell phones instead of specialized watches, and how excited everyone had been by the new feature. This was _ages_ beyond that, and it amazed Jeanette that she was being given this kind of equipment to use. 

She had a phone, of course, with quick access to HQ and multiple images of the man she was supposed to help capture. The primary image of Matt Jameson was a man in his late forties (or so) with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, large nose, high cheekbones, a strong jaw and a pointed chin. He was handsome, and she thought he looked like Christopher Reeve if she looked at the picture the right way. The other images were the same face and same hair color with various facial hair styles. Then there were still more versions of the same man with different hair. Blond, red, light brown, short, long, curly, straight. Every variation there could be had been presented to her, and she had memorized them all.

It was a shock when, after a few hours nursing a virgin margarita, she saw the man, looking just like his "primary" picture. He stepped into the room, glanced around briefly, then sat at the bar. Jeanette was in a seat on the side, at right angles to the man. She activated the lens camera to get a still, and made a quick call to headquarters.

"Good work, Jeanette," Jeff said. She could faintly hear background sounds of the control room - that mysterious place where clerks were certainly not allowed, that Jeff had shown her for the very first time yesterday. Typing and a hum of quiet voices made the faint backdrop for the set of computer terminals where Jeff and one or two techs would be downloading the images from her lens cam. She'd asked if they would be watching her from the giant screen at the end of the room, but he told her that Jameson wasn't important enough to command the whole room. "We received your image," Jeff told her. "We have a team on the way. Should take no more than thirty minutes."

Jeanette was surprised, and she showed it. Still, she kept her voice casual and continued to smile as she talked. "Wow, that seems like a long time," she said. "No way someone can cover that for me a little faster?"

"He's not going to leave the bar this instant, Davis," he said. "And if he moves, just stay on him, you'll be fine."

"Okay, no problem," she said, with false brightness.

"Good. We'll keep you on two way through the earpiece from now on. Just remember, _don't_ put your finger to your ear, and don't talk to us without the phone as a prop, okay?"

"Got it, thanks," she said. "See you in thirty."

"Right. You're doing a great job, Jeanette."

He hung up before she could thank him. She put the phone away and glanced casually around the bar. There were several typical pub crawlers, but needless to say, she wasn't interested in them. The target was still at the bar. He had a beer in front of him, but didn't seem to be touching it. While she watched, he glanced at his phone and smiled. A few moments later, a blonde woman joined him at the bar. Jeanette's camera took her in, and the phone buzzed.

She checked it and frowned. What the hell? The woman's picture appeared, with a note saying "assassin". There was a red "DECEASED" stamp across her face. A "dead" assassin meeting up with a white collar criminal? Was this the "bigger fish" the paper-pusher was supposed to know? Maybe this would lead to someone even bigger than an assassin who'd managed to fake her death?

Jeanette watched them (occasionally looking at her phone, or around at other people in the bar). The woman kissed Jameson on the cheek and sat beside him. They talked briefly, then the woman nodded, and left the bar. Jeanette was surprised - she'd never seen them exchange anything - no money or documents passed between them (at least not while she'd been looking). And now, the target looked like he was ready to leave.

Jeanette glanced at her watch, remembering her instructions not to panic if he moved. No more than five minutes had passed since she contacted HQ. Twenty-five minutes before the extraction was supposed to get to her. How was she supposed to keep track of him for over twenty minutes? 

When she looked up, he was paying for the beer. She turned away as he seemed to scan the bar, and looked back a few seconds later. He was on his way out the door.

Jeanette paid and left the bar, moving casually as she'd been instructed. She pretended to check her phone again when she got out of the bar, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jameson strolling off east down the street. She was relieved when he didn't get into a cab, and after he got about a block away, she followed him. 

Sticking to Jameson was easier than she expected. He kept a moderate pace, and even though she thought he might have looked back a few times, she always noticed his head turning, and she would pause to look at a shop window or check her phone before he turned fully. Each time she glanced up again, he'd moved on a couple of feet, without giving any sign that he noticed her following, and Jeanette would continue the chase.

She wasn't exactly pleased with where said chase was leading, though. In only ten minutes, they had moved from the decent neighborhood the bar was in to a somewhat seedy place. There was graffiti on the walls, and the people roaming around looked much like the people she used to see roaming around the unsavory parts of Downtown L.A. - just a little bit rougher and less open than the people had been just a few blocks back.

Despite the change in the neighborhood's tone, it was still fairly simple keeping up with Jameson. Which was why it shocked her when she suddenly couldn't see him at all. She caught him turning his head, and looked down to "answer" a call on her phone, and when she looked up again he was gone. She gasped. " _Shit!_ "

"What happened, Davis?" Jeff asked through her earpiece.

"I-"

"Are you talking to yourself?"

She put the phone to her ear. "I lost him! He just vanished!"

"Alright, don't panic," he said calmly. "Just keep going in the direction he was moving, like I trained you. He never saw you, did he?"

"No, never," she said. 

"Good. Don't panic, you're doing fine, Jeanette. Just keep moving and activate the camera when you see him again."

"Yes, sir. Is backup-"

"About twenty-five minutes out now."

She gasped. "But Je- s-sir, you said thirty minutes over fifteen-"

"Davis, you're panicking," Jeff said sternly. "Focus on _getting_ to him, understand?"

She gritted her teeth. "Yes, sir." 

"Good." 

She put the phone away, and swallowed the curses she wanted to use. He could still hear her over the earpiece, but she resolved to talk to him about it when she got home. Front or no front, snapping at her when _he_ was the one who'd lied about the time was _not_ okay.

Jeanette quickened her pace, and headed in the direction she'd last seen Jameson. She glanced down a couple of side streets as she went, but never saw him. She didn't say anything yet, hoping she could salvage the situation before letting anyone in the control room know she still hadn't found him.

The third opening she passed was just a small alleyway, but she glanced from side to side just in case. When she turned to her left, she was grabbed by the hair and yanked back. Before she could scream, another hand covered her mouth and she was dragged quickly back. She struggled, clutching at the muscular arms that held her, trying pull away, trying to scream. The man was powerful, though, and nothing she did seemed to affect him. "Davis?" Jeff called out. "Is that you, what's wrong with you?" She continued to struggle, and Jeff's voice was strident with worry when he spoke again. " _Jeanette!_ What's happening?" 

Her attacker pulled her back behind a dumpster, out of sight of the street, and slammed her against the alley wall. "Jeanette OPEN your eyes." Jeff's voice sounded calmer, though still urgent. "Open your eyes, okay? I turned the feed on, but we can't help if we can't see anything."

Jeanette opened her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. It was him. Jameson. His reddened face was twisted in a furious snarl, and she shuddered and shut her eyes again. "It's _him_ ," she heard Jeff say. "Shit! He's got her, shit _shit!_ Okay, Jeanie, just don't panic," he said, even though it felt like he was panicking as much as she was. He'd called her Jeanie where people in the control room could hear. "Just LIE, okay, _LIE_ , don't give him _anything_! Backup is on the way!"

Jameson had hold of Jeanette's shoulder, and his hand was still pressed hard against her mouth. "Listen up," he said, his tenor voice vibrating with a deep intensity. "I'm going to let you go, but you scream and I am going to _break_ you, you hear me? I'll break your _fucking_ arm, understand?"

She nodded, her body beginning to tremble. He let go of her mouth, and grabbed her other arm tightly. Jeanette struggled to stay calm. "W-what do you want with me?"

He glared at her, his head tilting up ever so slightly. "Don't you _dare_ try to play that game with me," he hissed. "I spotted you watching me back at the bar, now _who_ are you?"

She hadn't been able to hide her shock, and Jeff whispered a frustrated "Shit!" into her earpiece. "I... I d-don't know what y-you're-"

Her attacker grabbed her chin hard and looked into her eyes. He was about to speak, but he narrowed his eyes suddenly, and Jeanette felt herself trying to pull back again. "What is it?" It was a new voice coming through the earpiece this time - someone Jeanette didn't recognize. 

"It's-

"Is that- get that in the main screen _right_ now, is that _Hunt?_ "

Jeanette gasped and her eyes widened. " _WHAT?_ " she cried. Jameson, or HUNT, frowned in confusion. "You sent me after _Ethan Hu-_ " Hunt gripped her by the neck and pressed her back against the wall. "No," she whimpered. " _No_ , pl-"

"You're making too much noise," he whispered, squeezing her throat even tighter, cutting off her air supply completely. "I want you to be quieter." She nodded and he let her breathe. 

"Who is that with him?" the new voice asked.

"It's Jeanette Davis, she's... she's..."

"She's _what_ , Kates?"

"She's the Finance lead from-"

" _You sent a finance clerk after Ethan HUNT??_ "

Jeanette squeezed her eyes shut, unable to hold onto the hope that maybe somehow it was a different Agent Hunt she'd found. "S-sir, I... I never thought she'd get so close, I thought-"

"I know what you _thought_ , Kates," the newcomer snapped. "We'll talk about your little _side_ project and your _irresponsible, reckless, overly-ambitious, **insubordinate**_ behavior later! Right now, you need to _get_ that woman out of there, _where's_ her extraction team?"

Jeanette could feel her heart racing at the litany of epithets the other man was using. Insubordinate? Reckless? Could Jeff _not_ have authority to put her in the field? Oh _God_. Hunt was still holding her, glaring at her while the other man spoke. She heard Jeff say, "No more than twenty minutes, sir," at the exact moment Hunt began to force her to turn her head, first to one side, then to the other. 

"Twenty minutes?" came the new voice again. "Why the _hell_ wasn't she shadowed, Kates? She's an _amateur_! Not even that!"

"I didn't think-"

"Of _course_ you didn't! You-" 

Hunt suddenly gripped Jeanette's head and forced her to tilt. He reached for her ear, and Jeanette jerked back. "No!"

" _Shut_ your mouth, unless you want to get hurt!" he growled. He took the earpiece out, and Jeanette watched him put it into his own ear. He smiled. "Is that Hunley I hear?" Jeanette's eyes widened. _Hunley_? As in _Director of the CIA_ Hunley? Hunt paused for a moment. "This is just sloppy, Hunley." He paused again, then forced Jeanette to look at him. "How long until extraction gets here?" he asked.

Jeanette shook her head. "I... I d-don't-"

" _Don't_ lie to me!" he hissed, grabbing her neck again. 

"Please," she whispered. "I-"

" _How_ long?"

Jeanette made a flash decision, praying that making him think there was more time would help. Maybe if he thought he had more time, he wouldn't kill her outright. Maybe he would spend more time talking to the Director, or- Hunt squeezed her arm hard, and she winced. "H-half an hour," she stammered.

His eyes narrowed. "Give me the camera."

"W-wha-"

"The _lens cam_ , give it to me _now_!" She shook her head again and Hunt pressed his hand against her throat. "You have five seconds." Her chest heaved and she stared at the man in a panic. Her arms seemed to be made of lead, she couldn't move. She could only stand there, realizing again and again that she was going to die.

Hunt lowered his eyes and said, " _You're_ the one who put her in this position, Mr. Hunley, not me." He looked up at Jeanette, and squeezed her neck harder, so that she had to gasp for air. " _Two_ seconds." 

Jeanette raised a shaking hand and struggled to get the special contact out of her eye. She managed to get it off and it nearly fell, her hand was shaking so hard. Hunt gripped her hand and took the contact lens from her. He put it into his own eye, then smiled again. "Now you can see what you've done to her," he said.

Jeanette turned her head, irrationally ashamed to think of them seeing her this way - helpless and terrified on a huge screen in front of Jeff, the _Director_ of the CIA, who knew how many office techs. Suddenly, she felt Hunt's hand tighten on her throat. She gasped and looked at him, terror in her eyes. "No," she choked out. 

"What am I doing?" Hunt asked, speaking to the Director again. "I'm going to choke her to death, isn't that what you would expect me to do?"

"No, _please!_ " Jeanette cried, horrified. " _Jeff_ , help me! H-" He cut off her air supply, and she struggled fiercely against him, overcome by fear and a deep sense of unfairness. She'd done what he wanted and now she was going to die anyway. Oh _God_! She tried to scratch at his face, tried to pry his hand off her neck, but he was so much stronger than she, that it felt like trying to pry off an iron bar. Somehow he got hold of both her hands with his one free hand, and he gripped them hard. She tried to kick him, but she wasn't even sure her leg moved. 

With sickening speed, she felt her vision blurring. Her desperation grew, but she had no idea if her body fought as desperately as her mind wanted it to. Nothing she did seemed to matter, and seconds later she wondered why she'd been trying to stop it. She was cozy, and whatever he was doing was making her warm and comfortable. It was fine. Everything would be just fine.


	3. Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An expert makes a move.

Ethan was careful with the girl, careful not to break her neck despite her wild struggling. She'd obviously either had no formal combat training, or she'd been the worst recruit ever. She'd tried some moves that could have been covered in a second or third level self defense class, but nothing more. 

He dropped her immediately when she lost consciousness. "Damn you, Hunt." Hunley's voice was heavy. "She was just-"

"She was _your_ choice. _You_ did this to her. You should be looking for the _Syndicate_ , not sending amateur agents to find me!"

"Dammit! She-"

" _Keep_ these kids off my back!" He took the earpiece out and crushed it beneath his heel. Then, he crushed the lens cam, too, making sure to keep the girl out of its sight.

He had about ten minutes to move before extraction came - he'd seen the lie in the girl's eyes right away of course. He crouched beside her, and checked her pulse. She was alive, and she was breathing fine now. He felt her right arm, then her left, and located the tracker. He cut the girl's arm open, pulled out the tracker and left it (whole) in the alley with the decimated earpiece and lens. Then, he hefted the girl onto his shoulder and hurried away from the scene. 

Jane was at the rendezvous right on time, still looking eerie in Moreau's skin. Ethan dumped the girl in the back of the van, slid the door shut, and tapped the wall between himself and Jane. "Fast, a team will be here in under ten."

"Who's your pal?" she asked as the van peeled away.

Ethan looked down at the unconscious woman and shook his head. "I don't know."


	4. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

Jeanette became aware of a dull ache in her left arm. She shifted slightly, and the ache got worse. She sighed and stopped trying to move. It was too hard anyway.

Her throat hurt. Why was that? She hadn't had a cold. She pondered this for a while, when all at once the memories hit her. Hunt's fierce glare, his hand squeezing her throat, casually telling her boss that he was going to murder her. Jeanette opened her eyes, breathing hard now as if the memory of being choked meant that she was _currently_ running out of air.

She was lying on her side on a hard surface. Her arms were in front of her, bound together with white rope. Her left forearm was bandaged, and she could see a little bit of blood seeping through the gauze. Her legs were bent slightly, as if she had intentionally gone to sleep like this. She flexed her legs, and found that her ankles were bound as well. She looked down at herself and shuddered. Her jacket, blouse, slacks and shoes were all gone. All she had was her black briefs and bra. Though she was grateful for both, she still felt exposed and helpless. 

Jeanette fought against tears. He kept her alive. Why? It should be a relief, but all it meant was that this wasn't over. He wanted something from her, and whatever it was, it couldn't _possibly_ be anything she had or knew about. He was going to torture her, he wouldn't believe she was as ignorant as she was!

There was movement above her head, and a woman's voice said, "She's awake, Ethan." Jeanette gasped and looked towards the sound. She'd expected to see the assassin, but instead, saw a Black woman with fair skin and long dark hair. The woman had a phone to her ear, and watched Jeanette closely while she listened. "Yeah," she said. "Sure, one second." She slipped the phone into the pocket of her black blazer and approached Jeanette. Jeanette pushed herself up, wincing from the pain in her arm, and tried to pull away. The woman reached for her, and Jeanette scrambled back, moving awkwardly with her ankles bound. " _Hold_ still!" the woman snapped.

Jeanette backed up even further, but she gasped when her back hit the wall. The other woman grabbed Jeanette's arm and held her still with a surprisingly powerful grip. In a panic, Jeanette raised her arms and tried to push the woman away, but it was impossible.

" _Relax_ , I'm not going to hurt you!" The woman quickly pressed her fingers against Jeanette's neck - checking her pulse! Jeanette breathed a sigh of relief. She stopped trying to push the other woman away, but but her nerves were still raw. She knew she wasn't out of danger yet. 

The woman looked into her eyes next, then asked, "Do you have a headache?"

Jeanette thought about it, then nodded. "Yes, ma'am. A mild one."

The woman nodded, then let Jeanette go and stepped back. She took out her phone again, then pulled back the lapel of her jacket and took out a gun. Jeanette gasped, but the woman didn't threaten her with the weapon. Instead, she stepped back, and sat down a few feet away in what looked like an old, once-expensive dining chair. "Ethan? It's wearing off." There was a slight pause, then she continued. "Yes. And a little bruising on her neck. ... Right. I will."

She hung up the phone and tucked it back into her pocket. Jeanette watched her nervously, but the woman just sat there with the gun in her lap, staring coldly at her prisoner. Jeanette turned away and took a look around. They were in a fairly large, mostly barren room - probably in an apartment or house. Hardwood floors, cream-colored wallpaper and dark wooden molding. There were a few dining chairs similar to the one Ethan's accomplice was sitting in, but no dining table. The room was lit by a single overhead light. The windows (on the wall behind the woman) were completely covered with heavy curtains, so dark that Jeanette couldn't actually tell whether it was day or night. The room wasn't grimy, but there was dust here and there, and it had an air of a place that hadn't been used in a long time.

There was nothing else to see, and Jeanette glanced back at the other woman. She shuddered, unnerved by the gun and the woman's stony expression, but Jeanette forced herself to risk speaking to her. "Are... were you in the IMF?" 

The woman's eyes narrowed, and her sharp jaw clenched. "Yes," she said tightly.

"W-why did he bring me here? What's he going to do with me?"

"That's up to him."

Jeanette shivered, remembering Hunt's enraged face, and his hands on her throat. "He's going to kill me, isn't he? He's going to-"

"Look, how you make it out of this will be up to _you_ ," she snapped. "Now _keep_ quiet!" 

"But I don't _know_ anything, I-" The agent's eyes narrowed, and she glared down at Jeanette. Jeanette cringed under the scathing look, and covered her face with her hands, trying to keep from crying. 

It felt like a very long time later, but may have been only ten minutes, when Jeanette heard a door open in an outer room. She gasped, and looked toward the door. Booted feet approached the room, and Jeanette's fists clenched tightly. She tried to control herself, but her breathing accelerated the instant she heard him. When the door opened, and the small, dark-haired agent finally came into the room, tears came to her eyes immediately. She was terrified of him, and it was impossible to hide it. All she could think of was his hands on her throat and how, when this was all over, it would happen again - but this time he wouldn't stop until he killed her.

She was crying within three seconds and he hadn't even said anything. Hunt's hard expression didn't soften in the least. He locked the door and came further into the room, nodding to the other agent. The woman nodded back, and stood up, staying a couple of yards away, but with her gun still in her hand. Hunt came to stand directly in front of Jeanette. "I have a few questions for you. Do _not_ lie to me, understand?" 

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she said in a quavering voice.

"What's your name?"

"Jeanette," she answered. "Jeanette Davis."

"Who do you work for, Jeanette?"

"I... f-for the CIA."

He glared and her breathing quickened again. "I know that, but what _branch_ of the CIA?"

"I'm c-clerical, I... w-work as a team lead for Finance."

Hunt glared and took a step toward her, crowding her. "I _told_ you not to _lie_ to me!"

"I'm _not_ ," she cried, pressing herself back against the wall. "I... w-was... I s-sent a query about starting field work, and h-he... they said I could do a trial run with somebody easier to get a feel before I-"

"Wait, wait, _stop_ ," he said. "That makes no sense, who the _hell_ would send you after _me_ and tell you it was a 'trial run'?"

"I- they didn't tell me it w-was _you_ , they said y-you were a white collar criminal with information about somebody bigger. They said you would know a field agent if you saw one so they wanted to send someone... w-with less experience."

"What the _hell_?" he hissed, running a hand through his hair. "That doesn't make any _fucking sense_!" 

He turned to the other agent, and she shrugged. "I've never heard of anything like that." 

Hunt turned back to Jeanette and glared down at her. "I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play," he said darkly. "But that is _not_ how field assignments work and you _damn_ well know it! Now you stop _fucking lying_ to me!"

She shook her head, pressing back against the wall again. "I... I'm n-not-"

He practically snarled, and his arm snapped down almost too fast for her to see. He yanked her to her feet and shoved her hard against the wall. " _Tell_ me the _truth!_ " he shouted. "Did somebody _send_ you here? Did they tell you to make it obvious you were following me, so I would pick you up? They _meant_ for me to catch you, didn't they? WHY? _Answer me!_ " Jeanette's body tensed under the barrage of questions, and her breath caught in her throat. She froze, unable to speak, breathe, or even _think_. 

Hunt glared, gritting his teeth, his jaw clenching tight in his obvious fury. Still gripping her arm painfully with one hand, he reached for Jeanette with his other hand. She flinched, trying to brace herself for a blow, but Hunt didn't hit her. He gripped her jaw with his large hand and forced her to look at him. "Listen to me carefully, Jeanette," he said. His voice was low, clear and incredibly calm. "I don't _want_ to hurt you. But I will do what I _have_ to do to get the truth from you. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" 

For a moment, Jeanette stayed frozen, staring fearfully into Hunt's hard eyes. Then she sucked in a sharp breath, and all at once her body seemed to catch up with her mounting terror. She started to tremble, her entire body quivering uncontrollably. Without consciously deciding to try it, her arms tugged uselessly against the tight knots binding her wrists. She raised her hands, but she was terrified to touch him, and she kept them pressed tight against her chest. Her tears flowed, and her quick, ragged breaths were punctuated by terrified whimpers. 

"Please." It was a barely audible whisper even to her own ears. "Please, I t-told you the _truth_. M-my friend... is a t-trainer, he c-cleared me to come out here. He... he l-lied to me, h-he... t-told me you were white collar and you didn't even know... how to use a gun!" Hunt's eyes widened, and Jeanette felt her stomach churning, filled with hurt and anger on top of her overpowering dread. "Please, d-don't hurt me, I... I don't know _anything_ else, sir, please... _please_!" She couldn't speak anymore, and her frightened sobbing was all that could be heard.

Hunt watched her intently for several seconds, still frowning. Finally, he shook his head and turned to look at his fellow former agent, without letting go of Jeanette's arm. "Can you confirm her identity securely?" he asked.

"I should be able to." There were a few moments where the only sound was that of Jeanette struggling to stop crying. Then, the woman said, "Whoa, it's _true_. Look at this, Ethan."

Ethan squeezed Jeanette's arm and she cringed. "Do _not_ move." She nodded, and Ethan let her go. Jeanette felt like she might collapse, but she forced herself to stay still.

Ethan stepped away and looked at the other woman's phone, then back at Jeanette, disbelief in his eyes. "Who sent you here?" he asked. "Who's this friend that cleared you?" She wasn't sure if she should give Jeff's name, and she hesitated. Hunt sighed, and his fists clenched in frustration. He came back, and Jeanette felt herself tensing again. Hunt grasped the ropes that bound Jeanette's wrists and pulled slowly, forcing her arms straight out, undaunted by her feeble attempts to pull back. He rested his free hand on her left arm - right over the bandage. Glaring fiercely at her, Hunt squeezed her arm _very_ slightly. It would barely have felt like a light caress normally, but on her wounded arm, it was enough to make her gasp. "What's his _name?_ " 

"Jeff," she answered breathlessly. "Jeffrey Kates."

Ethan let her go and turned back to his friend. "What about him, can you look him up?" 

The woman was already looking at her phone. "Doesn't say much," she answered after a moment. "Oh. But look at that."

Hunt read the screen and shook his head. Jeanette watched, feeling insanely curious about what they'd found. "Well. Hunley's going to have this guy's head for dinner tonight."

"You don't think Hunley knew about this?"

"Do you really think Hunley would send a _civilian_ after me?" he asked. "He's a lot of things, but he isn't stupid."

"This is _insane_ ," the woman said. "Even with something like that on his record, why would Kates think _this_ would work?"

"Who knows? But it's not hard to imagine he would, if he thought _that_ would work." Hunt shook his head again. "When does Hunley expect you back?"

"About eighteen hours," the woman answered. 

"Okay, you're going to be on time. Let's move."

The woman gestured toward Jeanette. "What about Davis? What are you going to do with her?"

Hunt looked at Jeanette, then glanced back at the other agent. "I'm going to put her to work."


	5. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette is given a choice.

Hunt came back into the room, and Jeanette was immediately afraid again. She'd been frightened when they talked about the female agent leaving - as if the woman had been some kind of shield against certain forms of torture, and now that she was gone, it would be a free for all. The two agents had gone away together, leaving Jeanette gagged and securely tied to one of the dining chairs. Now, ages later, he was back alone, and all Jeanette's fears came rushing up again.

He pulled the gag from her mouth. "I want you to see something, Jeanette," he said. He showed her his phone. Jeanette gasped. It was her profile with the CIA - her image, vital details, position and department were all there. But there was a bold red "DECEASED" stamped across her picture. She looked at him in horror, and he nodded. "That's right," he said. "You're dead to them. Which means I'm the only help you have out here." Jeanette struggled to hold it together, but she started to cry almost immediately. "It's okay," Hunt said. "You're going to be fine. Just cooperate with me, and you'll be just fine."

"I-If I... c-cooperate with you it's treason," she said shakily. "C-can't you just s-send me home? Why would... you even want..."

"I need funding," Ethan said. "You're a senior finance officer. You have bank account numbers in every country coded into your head. You're just going to do your job and finance a field agent's mission. And don't worry, Jeanette. Dead people can't commit treason."

Jeanette averted her eyes from Hunt's gaze. Her chest heaved. She felt as trapped as she had when he'd cornered her in the alley. "I... I c-can't. They'll change the-"

"Not if you're dead, they won't. And you're _dead_ , Jeanette. They witnessed it, right up on the big screen. The extraction team that came for you will have already found the charred remnants of your clothes on a dead body that can't be identified. You're dead to them. _Nobody's_ coming to look for you. You _don't_ have a choice." After a moment's pause, he said, "Well, that isn't true. You do have a choice." She looked up at him, suspicious. "You can help me, or you can leave right now. But you go _just_ as you are."

She gasped and looked down again, as if she needed a reminder that she had nothing on but her underwear. She could only imagine what would happen if she had to go out there like this and try to get home from... wherever they were. She shut her eyes again, feeling nauseous. "Okay," she said, her voice still shaky with tears. "I'll cooperate." 

"Good. Thank you, Jeanette." She felt him pull away, and a moment later he was untying her arms. She sat still while he loosened the ropes around her ankles, too. Then he stepped away for a second, and came back with a folded bundle of clothes. "Here. These should fit you well enough."

"Thank you," she said, taking the clothes and clutching them to her. She brushed at her eyes and tried to stop crying.

"Try to relax, Jeanette," Hunt said. "I won't hurt you again. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry I had to hurt you at all." She nodded, staring down at her knees. "It may ease your mind to know that I'm not the enemy. The CIA is wrong, and when I prove it, we can both go back to our lives."

Jeanette nodded again, but she could feel her fear rising. Oh God. When, at some future date, this ONE MAN, with his one other helper, managed to prove the _entire CIA_ wrong, she could go home. She buried her face in the clothes and sobbed aloud.

Hunt let her cry for a moment or two, then patted her shoulder. "Get dressed," he said sharply. "Come out when you're done and we'll talk."

He left the room, and Jeanette struggled to pull herself together. The situation was horrific, but she was _in_ it. There was nothing she could do about it. She had no doubt she would be killed, or at least very badly hurt, if she didn't do what he said. As to his being "right" and proving the CIA wrong, he was clearly delusional. But she was cooperating with him under duress and she hoped she could convince her superiors of the truth if she ever got out of this. 


	6. The Syndicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan explains who they're up against.

Ethan looked up at the sound of footsteps. The woman, Jeanette, came slowly from the barren dining room into the living area of the safe house, wearing the black turtleneck and blue jeans that they'd bought for her before Jane left. She stood in the doorway, looking around at the rest of the room as if she expected something or someone to jump out at her. It was just a basic living room in a basic, somewhat cavernous apartment in London. It was a safe house he had used ages ago, shortly after his life had been destroyed the first time. Something the Secretary had kept safe for him, somehow still protecting Ethan long after his death. 

Ethan beckoned to Jeanette. "You should eat something." He went into the kitchen area, and Jeanette slowly approached and sat at the bar. Ethan put half a deli sandwich in front of her, along with a bottle of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. "How's your throat? And your arm?" 

"Sore," she answered. "Both, but my arm hurts a lot. What happened to it?" 

"You had a locater chip in it. I removed it. The cut wasn't too deep, you should feel better in a day or so." 

She nodded and carefully unwrapped the sandwich. Ethan moved away from the bar area so that she could eat in peace. He settled on the couch, and busied himself by cleaning his guns and making sure all the clips were full. When he finished, he looked up to see Jeanette watching him with an expression somewhere between fascination and horror. He frowned and she turned back to her food, looking worried. "Have you handled this kind of gun before?" he asked. 

She turned back to him and shook her head. "No, sir. I've never handled any kind of gun before." 

Ethan gasped and stared at her, completely stunned. " _What_?" She shook her head. "Why the _hell_ would he send you into the field with no... So you actually don't have _any_ combat training, do you?" 

"No, sir," she answered. She seemed embarrassed about it, and Ethan shook his head again. 

"Okay. Don't worry about it, we'll deal with that later. First order of business is to get you some basic field training so you don't broadcast yourself when we get out there. You eat, then tell me what they _did_ teach you before they threw you to the wolves." She gave him a hesitant smile, finished fast, and approached him. "Have a seat." She sat on the edge of the chair across from him and clasped her hands together like an attentive (and extremely nervous) student. "Let's talk," Ethan said. "Tell me how this happened." 

Jeanette explained how she'd been essentially "drafted" to follow Ethan, or "Matt Jameson", as she'd been told was his name. She explained how Kates had made it seem like he was doing her a favor, and she detailed the frankly laughable two-day training she'd received from him. She'd received a crash course in how to use field equipment, and a few basics on how to follow someone undetected that would have worked on anyone _except_ a person who actually expected to be followed. 

Ethan shook his head again. "I really don't understand what he thought he was doing sending such an inexperienced person after me." 

"I didn't understand it, either," she said. She shifted uncomfortably, and her eyes started to fill with tears. "But... s-something isn't... When I tried to tell him I wasn't comfortable with it, he... he basically told me if I didn't do it, it meant I didn't want to help my country."

Ethan scowled. "That's _bullshit_. The CIA and the IMF might make use of civilians in certain situations, but they're civilians with a particular skill set. And neither agency would _ever_ send a civilian into a dangerous situation without having a team within arm's reach. If Kates was doing his job properly, he would have had you shadowed by a team, and we both would have been picked up at the same time, within minutes of your tagging me."

Jeanette nodded slowly. "That's what Director Hunley meant. He asked why I wasn't shadowed."

"Precisely, because he knows protocol. There was no reason for you to have to wait some... forty minutes was it? for extraction to get to you. Like I said before, Hunley's going to have that man's head. What he did was inexcusable. If I'd been anyone else, that would have been suicide, not patriotism. Or _murder_ , really."

She winced, and her tears began to fall. "And... while we were in the alley and Director Hunely found out who I was, he... he called him reckless and insubordinate and overly-ambitious. But Jeff told me he'd _never_ do anything if he didn't have the authority to do it!"

Ethan gave her a sympathetic look. "Then he lied to you, Jeanette. He took advantage of your ignorance of the system and your trust in him to get you to go along." Jeanette was visibly upset. She folded her arms tightly across her chest and continued to weep. "What was he to you?" Ethan asked.

"Huh?"

"You worked in Finance, he trained agents for field work. He had no direct supervision over you. So, how did he manage to convince you to go along with this?"

Jeanette glanced away. "We were seeing each other," she said softly. Ethan nodded. He'd figured as much. "We'd been going out for a couple of months. I thought it was getting serious, but now... h-how could he... s-send me..."

"I'm sorry," Ethan told her. “But it's consistent with what we found in his records."

"What... what was that?"

"Kates was a pointman on a CIA strike team team six years ago. Apparently, he was ordered to stand down by a superior officer, and he convinced three members of his team to go with him on a mission of their own. One man was killed. Kates and the other two men were badly injured. Kates was pulled from field work and demoted. He _would_ have been arrested, but the surviving agents testified that they and the deceased agent had acted independently, not under orders from Kates. Since then, Kates has worked his way up to trainer, but apparently his craving for glory isn't completely gone."

Jeanette stared at him in horror. "But... s-so he thought... he _used_ me to try to catch you himself?"

Ethan nodded. "Most likely. I assume he thought you could spot me, which you did, and that he could get a team to grab me before I caught onto you."

"But if that's what he thought, why wouldn't he have had me shadowed?"

"He couldn't," Ethan said. "Don't forget, sending you out here wasn't sanctioned. He could send _you_ without anyone really noticing, but he couldn't very well mobilize an extraction team without attracting attention. And he couldn't let Hunley know what he was planning, for obvious reasons. He probably thought that all would be forgiven once you caught up with me and he showed Hunley proof that he'd found me. Probably thought he'd be able to mobilize a local team quickly enough to get to me before I got to you. Or, more likely, he knew that that I would catch you, but thought he could use the locater chip to track us down. He would know how unlikely I'd be to kill an unarmed woman, which is another reason he may have chosen you."

Jeanette's eyes shone, and she shrank down in the chair and covered her face with her hands. She took a couple of deep breaths, then brushed at her eyes again. "Sorry. I... just..."

"I understand," Ethan said. "I'm sorry this happened to you." She nodded her thanks, still not meeting his eyes. "On the bright side, you actually _will_ get to help your country now." She rubbed her hands nervously. "I know it's difficult for you, and you don't trust me," Ethan said. "I don't blame you. But you're going to have to move past your instincts and _try_ to trust me. Even if just for practicality's sake. I need your skills and you need mine." 

She nodded, but her hands continued to work nervously. He waited, and after a few seconds she said what was on her mind. "What about... what h-happens when... when it stops being practical? Once you have the money, you won't need me anymore. I..." Tears came to her eyes, and she clasped her hands tightly together. "I can't fight, I can't fire a gun. I'll be a burden, you... you're going to k-kill me then, aren't you?" 

"No," Ethan said, shaking his head. "No, I'm not going to kill you, Jeanette," he said. "I'm sorry I frightened you before. If I'd known that you weren't even a _rookie_ field agent, I might have..." He shook his head again. No need to get into might-have-beens. "I wouldn't kill a civilian, you don't have to worry about that." 

"So... what are-" She stopped herself and looked down again.

"What is it?" Ethan asked. "What's your question?"

She took a deep breath. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. 

Ethan frowned. "Didn't they... no of course they didn't, he never even told you who you were tracking. How much do you know about me already?"

"I know the Director's been looking for you for about three months," she said. "Ever since the IMF was dissolved. And... now I know that you were last seen in France." 

Ethan's eyebrows raised. "That's all?"

"That's right, sir."

"Okay," he said. "Guess not a lot of news gets to the Finance room," he said. She smiled and shook her head. "Honestly, you probably know only a shade less information than the Level 1 Analysts know." She looked surprised by that, and it was his turn to smile. "We're all about secrets," he said. "But you've been dropped into my lap, so you might as well know everything." 

Ethan gave her a brief rundown of what he knew of the Syndicate - one man, the Key, using former agents who'd been declared dead to perform acts of terror around the world. He told her what they were responsible for, as far as he knew - a missing plane, several bombings, and of course, the compromise of the London Terminal.

She was shocked by that, and sucked in a deep, almost theatrical gasp. "They got one of our _terminals_?" she asked.

He nodded. "They knew exactly how the setups work, which I'll bet _you_ don't even know." She shook her head. "They killed the terminal agent, captured me-" 

She gasped again. " _You_?" He nodded. "But... how did you get away?"

"I got lucky," he said, not willing to give away the double agent who'd freed him, even to someone who had no real connections. "I probably won't be so lucky again," he said. "I'd already been tracking them for over a year, and now that's my sole focus. I _have_ to find the leader, and at the very least I need to find concrete proof that they exist - something Hunley can't poke any holes in. I found out that _he_ thinks that I'm making it all up. He thinks I'm orchestrating the attacks myself so that I can come in and be the hero." He shook his head. "Once I get proof, we can go back in, and they _should_ reinstate the IMF."

Jeanette let out a sigh, looking overwhelmed. "I... that's a lot to..." She frowned, and looked sharply at Ethan. "Didn't..." She bit her lip and shook her head. 

"It's okay," he said. "You can say it, whatever it is."

She was still very nervous, and she didn't meet his eyes when she asked her question this time. She stared at her own tightly clasped hands. "I... I s-saw you talking to a woman in the bar, and... my lens cam identified her as deceased. S-so... if..."

"No," Ethan said, shaking his head again. "That wasn't Moreau. It was... a friend. The woman you saw this morning." Jeanette looked shocked, and Ethan nodded. "She used to be part of my IMF team. She came to me in disguise because she's officially working for the CIA now."

The woman looked stunned, and Ethan could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "You have somebody on the inside? I... How... w-what about like... lie detector tests? We have to get tested once a year, and-"

"I'll tell you a secret, Jeanette," he said. "Fooling a lie detector is one of the first things an IMF agent learns to do." 

Her jaw dropped, and Ethan smiled. "But... if you just told me you're a... a _lying_ expert, how can I believe all this stuff about the Syndicate? What if... what if you really _are_ just a rogue agent, and you're trying to get me to bankroll _your_ terrorist acts?"

"I've had over twenty years to use my skills against the US, and I haven't," he said. "Why would I start now?"

"Nothing tempting enough came up yet?"

"Money has been money since humans started talking to each other. If I wanted that, I could just rob banks. It's much easier and cleaner than bombing people. I don't have a motive."

"Well, what's this other man's motive, then?"

"Not sure," Ethan said. "But I have an idea. I have a feeling that he's someone's former agent - he has too many agency connections not to be. He got sick of towing the line, and decided to work on turning other agents, doing things their own way, instead of following his government's orders." 

Jeanette stared at him, and Ethan could see she was on edge. Her face was starting to redden, and she was starting to breathe a bit faster than before. "Y-you... you know you just described someone who could be _you_ , right? You managed to have the whole CIA scrambling for months! You even have that woman turned to your side."

Ethan sighed. "It _isn't_ me," he said. "Easy to say, I know. But believe me, if I were the head of the Syndicate, I wouldn't have kept you alive, and I certainly wouldn't bother telling you all about myself." She blushed and kept quiet, but Ethan could tell she wasn't convinced. "Look," he said. "You don't have to believe me, but we _are_ going to have to work together. So, forget the reason for now if it's easier. It's time to get started."

"We're going to the bank?" she asked.

"Not yet. First, I need to give you a crash course in field work - starting with the most important aspect of being a field agent." 

He got up and rifled through the small chest of drawers in one corner of the room. When he found what he wanted, he turned back to her, holding up his find. She looked incredulously at him. "A deck of cards?" 

"Right," he said, coming back to her and shuffling the deck. "Like I said, you're about to learn the most important aspect of field work." 

"What, shuffling like a card shark?" she asked, watching his hands. 

"No," Ethan said, laughing. He dealt five cards to each of them, and set the deck down between them. " _Bluffing_." 


	7. Training Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy School 101

Jeanette spent the next ninety minutes getting soundly thrashed at poker. Hunt was a genius. Jeanette had never been the best player, but it didn't seem to matter how wonderful her hand was, Hunt could convince her to fold. At least three times she'd folded a great hand only to find out he had literally nothing. And when she assumed he MUST be bluffing and called him, he'd ended up having some ridiculous hand with straight flush or four aces. 

Frustrated, she accused him of cheating, then worried about making him mad. But he only smiled and shook his head. "I'm not cheating. I'm just better at bluffing than you are. I can tell when you're lying."

"How?" she asked. 

He shook his head. " _You_ figure it out and tell me. Pay attention to your body when you have a crappy hand. Pay attention when you have a great hand, too. I can tell both ways. The way to win is either to pick one set of cues and stick with it no matter what, or to play games with me. Look like you're losing when you have the best hand." Jeanette sighed. It seemed impossible, but Hunt dealt a new hand and tapped the table. "Come on, let's go." 

She looked at her cards. Decent, but not the greatest. She put them in the right order, then looked over at Hunt. He was watching her. "What do you see?" she asked him.

Hunt gave her a curious smile. "You think you're going to lose," he said. She looked down at herself as if she could see the cues on her own body. She thought about what she'd done. She felt pensive, and she'd looked at him with a frown on her face. Her shoulders were a little bit hunched even now. She sat up and leaned back in the chair. Hunt smiled. "Good," he said. "You're paying attention. Give those back, I'm going to deal again."

He did so, and the next hand she had was excellent. She frowned at the cards, which she always did when she got a bad hand, then leaned back against her chair, which she usually did when she was fairly confident in her hand. Hunt laughed. "Very good, Jeanette. Now I'm not so sure. Let's play it out and see what happens."

They did, and needless to say, Hunt won the game. But he praised her on trying to pay attention to her own cues. After another thirty minutes of practice, during which Jeanette actually managed to win one hand, Hunt decided to give her a break from Bluffing 101, and move on to a few lessons in combat. 

"You want to teach me how to fight?" she asked incredulously. "You're up against trained CIA agents, how can I hope to beat them?"

"You can't," he said frankly. "Not in the time we have, anyway."

"So..."

Hunt smiled at her. "Didn't you want to try for field work?" Jeanette felt herself blushing, and he shrugged. "Look, I don't expect you to have to fight your way out of an ambush or anything. But I think you would feel better having a few techniques under your belt just in case, don't you?" She nodded, and he gave her a smile. "Great. So, let's start with what to do if somebody grabs you from behind."

~ ~ ~

They spent another ninety minutes doing self-defense and attack training. It was a crash course the likes of which Jeanette had never experienced. Hunt spread out four or five blankets on the living room floor as a makeshift mat, and he didn't hesitate to toss and slam her onto it more often than Jeanette would have liked. The first time he tossed her, she realized how crappy four blankets on a hard wood floor were as an exercise mat. She was half-dazed, and felt like he must have broken her back. But Ethan gave her no time to recover. "Get up, get up, come on," he said. 

"But-"

"Gonna tell the bad guys what you're about to tell me?" he asked. Her face flushed and she got to her feet. "Good job, now come here."

"You gonna toss me again?" 

"Yup," he said with a nod. "And this time you're going to roll and dodge left like I showed you, right?"

"I'll try," she said, walking hesitantly toward him.

"Do I have to quote Yoda to you?" She pursed her lips, frustrated, but Ethan just laughed. "I know, you're getting pissed at me. You're not actually a field agent yet, you're just an office clerk, so why do you have to do this shit, right?"

"Pretty much," she said, glaring at him and wishing he would stop being so damn chipper.

"And you know the answer already," he said. "Kates _made_ you a field agent the day he sent you after me. He didn't _prepare_ you to be one, but that's what you became the moment you stepped out of the door with that earpiece. And unlike Kates, I'm not going to put you out there without making sure you're prepared for it. As prepared as you can be in the time we have, anyway."

Jeanette sighed, but she stood up straighter and nodded. "I understand. I... I just don't see why I need to learn all this physical stuff. Right now, that is. I mean... my arm is cut, my throat hurts, I... and anyway, I'm just withdrawing money for you, right? I'm not really..."

Hunt frowned, and Jeanette trailed off, suddenly very nervous. She'd been okay since they played poker together, even though she was confused about him and the Syndicate. But the dark frown made her remember the reason her throat and arm were hurt in the first place. Only a few hours ago (as far as she could tell), he'd nearly choked her to death. "Look, Jeanette," Hunt said. "When Kates sent you out here... I hate to say it, but he wasn't risking _his_ neck, he was risking yours. When we walk out that door together, I'm responsible for keeping you alive, but I'm also putting _my_ life in _your_ hands. I know you're hurt, and I know it's my fault," he said. "Believe it or not, I _am_ taking that into account while we work."

"You _are?_ "

He chuckled and nodded. "I am. But this is the _field_ , Jeanette. And this is your _real_ chance to see what field work is like. You might get hurt out there, and your choice will be to push past the pain and keep moving, or give in to the pain and end up dead. I'm not asking you to become a veteran agent in a day, but I _need_ to be confident that you can follow my instructions in case we run into trouble." 

She gave him a nod, but she knew that if the CIA came after him, she had every intention of surrendering to them. That's where she belonged, after all, and they could get her back home, back to her safe office job. "And don't think that every man we meet out there with a gun and a suit is going to be CIA, Jeanette," he said, seeming almost to read her thoughts. "The Syndicate is after me, too, and they would kill you in a heartbeat if they caught us. And they look _just_ like us, so don't be fooled."

"Right," she said. 

He frowned again, and she edged back nervously. Hunt shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Gravity pulls you to earth whether you believe in it or not. Come on," he said, before she could think of anything to say. "Defense stance, like I showed you. And when you hit, roll and spring left immediately."

"Yes, sir." She crouched slightly and waited for him to attack her. She dodged and managed to avoid being thrown for about two seconds longer than she had before. When she hit the blankets, she rolled back, despite the pain in her back and shoulder, and sprang left. 

" _Good!_ " he said, smiling. " _Very_ good, you just avoided a bullet." Jeanette smiled, pleased by the fact that he didn't withhold his praise even though he was probably irritated with her now for doubting the existence of the Syndicate. "This time, dodge right, and take cover behind the couch." 

She nodded, swallowing back a groan at the words "this time". But she crouched and got ready for him without being told. She took cover behind the couch and was told it was "excellent". "Great moves. Only problem is, I can shoot your fingers off," he said. She snatched her fingers in from where she'd been holding onto the edge of the couch for support.

They went again, then again, with Hunt adding different instructions and giving feedback about her speed, and how accurately she'd followed the instructions. He taught her different ways of breaking free from various types of holds. He taught her a few techniques to help her stop favoring her wounded arm as well. "An enemy will grab you or kick you _right_ there if you tell him it hurts." He taught her how to attack someone taller and stronger, "which, frankly, will be most of the people we encounter. You're... compact." 

She'd taken a chance and said, "Like you?" and to her relief he'd laughed, instead of taking offense. He was no more than 5'6"; in bare feet, which still gave him 2 inches on Jeanette. 

He taught her what pressure points were good to attack with men, what was different for women, and how to spot and quickly take advantage of weaknesses around those areas. "Remember - everyone we're up against will already know everything I'm teaching you. So guard yourself and be quick if you have to." He taught her the best way to disarm someone with a knife, or someone with a gun, and how to get away from the person if disarming them wasn't a possibility. 

By the time they finished her first day of training, Ethan was sweaty and flushed, and Jeanette felt like she was going to die. When he finally said, "I think that's enough for today," she dropped down on the couch and just breathed in and out, feeling all the twinges and aches that she knew were going to paralyze her tomorrow. "Why don't you grab a hot shower," he said. She groaned, and he laughed. "Or I can go first." She groaned again, and he came over and smiled at her. "Promise you won't try to escape?"

She rolled her eyes. "I can't even _blink_ ," she said drowsily.

He laughed at her again and patted her arm. "You did great, Jeanette." Then he turned away, and a few minutes later, she could hear the shower running.

Jeanette would have liked to hop up and sneak out the door to find a telephone. She could call Headquarters, get a team to handle Hunt, and get back home in no time. But she was truly too exhausted to move a muscle. She lay on the couch, feeling drained, but strangely pleased with herself. 

She'd never done so much physical work in her life, and she'd never felt more empowered, either. Even if she couldn't take down a seasoned CIA agent, she felt like she would be able to handle herself if she were attacked by a would-be mugger. Even with the self defense classes she'd taken, she still had never felt like _this_ before. And Hunt had taught her all of it in a few short hours. She had no idea why Jeff couldn't have tried to teach her any of this in the two day training he'd given her, but she was glad Ethan had taken the time. She felt like she could take on the world! Right after she took a little nap, anyway.


	8. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust-building exercises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: It's November, and that means it's NaNo Season! I will be reducing posting to once per week this month, instead of twice.

Jeanette was asleep when Ethan finished in the shower. He tapped her lightly on the arm until she woke up. He was reminded again that she wasn't an agent by how she woke up. Her eyes opened slowly, and she looked at him for a few seconds before recognizing him. A seasoned agent would probably have reached for a gun, or would at least have sprung up immediately. 

Jeanette sat up quickly when she remembered where she was. The she winced and rubbed her neck. "That's just what I need," she muttered.

"Hop in the shower," he said. "The hot water will help out."

She nodded and stood up slowly. Then she seemed to get nervous again. "What... what will I wear when I come out?" she asked. 

"Oh, here, we got you a few things." He went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. "Everything in here is yours."

She looked surprised. "Wow. Okay, thanks." She picked out new clothes and went toward the bathroom. "Um..."

"There's a fresh towel in there, soap, everything," Ethan told her.

"Thanks," she said. "Is there... Can I lock the door?"

"It doesn't lock," he said. "But I'm not going to bother you, if that's what you're worried about." 

Her face reddened and she looked down. "I'm sorry, I..."

"You don't have to apologize," Ethan said. "I know it's not personal. It's a strange situation for you. But I'm not going to hurt you, Jeanette." She nodded, still looking down and away from him. "Here," he said, moving to the small desk and picking up the chair. "The door opens in, you can use this."

Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, and she shook her head. "No, it's okay," she said softly. "It's... it's nice of you, but it's not necessary. I believe you."

"Oh?" He set the chair back in its place. "Can I ask why?"

She nodded. "It's not like you would have to wait for me to get in the shower if you _did_ want to..." She shrugged, still uncomfortable. "If you decide it's what you want, it's going to happen," she said. He frowned, and she shook her head. "But I was tied to a chair in my underwear, and you didn't touch me, so I'm pretty sure it's not what you want."

"Logical," he said with a smile. It wasn't exactly trust, but it was close enough for now. She went into the bathroom, and Ethan sat down and thought about a plan.

Jeanette took a long time in the shower. Ethan wondered briefly if he should check on her and make sure she wasn't trying to get out the window. Then he thought about her trying to climb down piping and decided it was highly unlikely - especially after the workout he'd given her. There was no point in frightening her by poking his head in when she was probably just enjoying a moment alone.

Sure enough, she came out eventually, fully dressed and with her dreadlocks wrapped up on the top of her head in a towel. Her left sleeve was rolled up to the elbow, and the bandage on her cut had been removed. Ethan smiled at her. "How do you feel now?" he asked.

"Hundred times better, thank you." Then she held out her arm. "But... your bandage couldn't survive the shower."

He smiled. "Take a seat, I'll fix you right up."

She sat down on the couch, and Ethan grabbed his first aid supplies. He checked the wound - it looked good still, and he dabbed a gauze pad with antibiotic cream and placed it over the wound. "Hold?" Jeanette held her hand on the pad, and Ethan began wrapping. He secured the small bandage, and Jeanette rolled her sleeve back down.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he said. "Work up an appetite yet?"

"Yeah, I did," she said.

"You like fish n chips?" he asked. She nodded, smiling brightly. "Ever had them in the UK before?"

"No, I haven't," she said excitedly. "Wait, wh- is _that_ where we are? When did we get out of Paris?"

"While you were unconscious," Ethan answered.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

"Sorry. Had to move fast, I forgot to tell you." 

"Okay," she said, rubbing her temples. She shook her head and looked up at him with a pleasant, if forced, smile. "So... we're going outside?"

"That's right," he said, smiling at her. He didn't mention it, but this was a good sign as well. She was learning to accept unusual changes without spending too much time dwelling on the strangeness of the situation. "This outing is going to be part of your training, too," he said to her.

"Getting food?" she asked.

"Using a false identity," Ethan corrected. 

"Oh! That shouldn't be too hard, right?"

"You'd be surprised," he answered. "A lot of new agents have trouble with it." Ethan went to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He knocked out the back and pulled out a small leather satchel. "The trick isn't answering to the fake name," he said, pulling out IDs and passports. "It's remembering _not_ to answer to your real one." 

"Hm. Never thought about that."

"You see it happen all the time in movies. Somebody answers to their real name and the jig is up." He pulled out a suitable ID, with a picture that was convincing enough on a quick pass. "Here you go, Desiree," he said. "Until I say so, this is you. Get to know her."

She studied the picture and the information while Ethan searched for an ID for himself. When he'd found one, he turned back to Jeanette. "How confident are you that you know her basics?"

"Sort of?"

Ethan smiled and took the card from her. "What's your middle name?"

"Louisa," she answered.

"Good. And what's your sign?"

She winced and thought about it. "Pisces?"

"You're right, but too long of course."

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he said, passing the ID back to her. "That's why we're doing this. While we're out, try to come up with a simple backstory for yourself that isn't too tough for you to remember, but isn't exactly like your life. Do you have any siblings? How many? What's your favorite color? That kind of small talk stuff makes a difference."

"Okay, I will."

"Good. I'll ask you some questions about it while we're out. I'm going as Curtis Haas," he said. "You call me Curt. It's our third date, so we're comfortable enough to be casual. I'm taking us to one of my favorite places in town. Okay, Jeanette?"

She started to answer, then wagged a finger at him. "Almost got me," she said. "Who's Jeanette?"

Ethan grinned. " _Very_ good. Let's go."


	9. Third Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan takes Jeanette on a field exercise.

Dinner was actually pretty nice. Ethan put on a coat and gave one to Jeanette. He also gave her a decorative scarf (probably to cover her now-bruised neck). Then he locked up the apartment, which included opening all the doors inside the apartment, and leaving little traps that he didn't bother to explain further than, "so I'll know if anyone's been here". 

Once outside, he extended his arm to her, and she took it, feeling shy and strange at first. "No need to be nervous," he told her. "We're just going on a casual date, no pressure, okay?"

"Okay, Curt, thanks," she said. 

He'd paid for a taxi to get them to his favorite fish 'n chips restaurant. It was a bit of a dive - very crowded, but "Curt" found them a decent table pretty quickly. They were served in short order, and Curt turned to her. "Want me to order for both of us, Desi?" He gave her a shy smile. "Can I call you that?"

"Sure," she said. "I like it. And yes, please, go ahead and order for me. I trust you."

He grinned and ordered fish and chips for both of them, along with two dark beers from the tap. When the waitress went away, Ethan started chatting with her. "How's your arm doing?" he asked.

"It's fine, thanks, just kind of a dull ache."

"Good, good. You ever had draft beer in England before?"

"Never. This has been my first visit to England," she answered.

Ethan's jaw dropped. "Oh, Desi, really?"

"Yup. Except for our first two dates, I've never been out of the country. Except for a quick trip to Mexico."

"Wow. Well, I'm glad I'm here to show you some of the down-to-earth sights. Maybe next time we go out, I'll take you to the clock tower and the palace."

"I'd love that," she said. "Do you think you'll have time during the next few days, or will you be too busy to take a day off?"

"I'll make time," he said. "Don't worry."

They continued to talk in their quasi-code, which was great for Jeanette. In a way she felt like she was on a real mission, even though the only object was to train her. And in another way, she felt like she was on a real date. It was a little strange, since she hadn't exactly broken up with Jeff. But after what he'd done to her, she knew it was over. There was no other alternative. Lying to her, using her, endangering her life, sending her after _the_ best agent in _the_ most elite espionage agency their government had? Absolutely NOT. 

Either way, even though it wasn't a real date, Ethan was friendly and personable. Jeanette was reminded of her first impression of him from the photos in his dossier. He looked even more like Superman in person, and she felt that if circumstances had been different, she might have said yes if he'd asked her on an actual date. As it was, she flirted with him when the wait staff was around, but shied away from doing it when there was no clear reason to.

The food was delicious, and she complimented him several times on his choices. He showed genuine pleasure (or what seemed like it, anyway) at her praise, and after paying for the meal, he asked if she would like to go anywhere else. "I... I guess I'll leave that up to you," she said.

"Well. We have a long day tomorrow," he said, and Jeanette made an effort not to let her disappointment show. "But you only live once." He winked at her. "I've never been to London with someone who hadn't seen it all before. Let's make the most of it. I'll show you the river, the clock, the palace, the house of parliament, we'll hit everything."

Jeanette beamed. "Really? We can do it all in one night?"

"Why the hell not? But just in case we miss a spot... how do you feel about heights?"

"Er..."

"Great! C'mon!" He took her hand, laughing at her somewhat alarmed expression, and led her at a quick pace down to the subway. 

"Where are you taking me, Curt?" she whispered when they got on the train.

He smiled. "Haven't you guessed?"

"Are we going to Big Ben? We can't go up that tower at night, can we? And even if we can, if you think I'm going to be climbing some eight hundred flights of stairs after-"

He laughed at her. "You're such a spazz, Desi." She giggled at the sound of this fifty-plus secret agent using the word "spazz". "If you haven't guessed, then I'm just going to let it be a surprise." She gave him a playful pinch on the arm, and he laughed again. 

There was standing room only on the train, and Jeanette leaned against Hunt, with her back to him. She told herself it was because it made sense for her character. But it was really more likely that the strong, dark beer she'd had was making her feel mellow and comfortable, and she was enjoying pretending they were on a date. It was nice to pretend that scary things like Syndicates and IMFs and CIA agents who tricked clerks into hunting expert assassins just didn't exist. 

Ethan wrapped his arm around her, draping it across her chest and resting his hand on her other shoulder. He pressed her lightly to him, and squeezed her shoulder. "Having a good time?" She nodded and took hold of his arm with both her hands. "Me, too," he said.

She rested against him until it was time to get off the train. He kept hold of her hand and led her up to street level. The second she stepped out, she knew where they were going. She grinned at him. "We're going on the Ferris wheel?"

"Yup." She clapped her hands, and Ethan laughed. "So heights are okay after all?"

"Sure, when you're encased in a steel bubble." 

They went onto the London Eye, and Jeanette saw the most beautiful, breathtaking view she could possibly have imagined. Then, Ethan took her to all the places he promised to take her. They saw the Thames, the Bridge, Big Ben, the House of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and both palaces. She'd never known how close together everything was, and it was wonderful that he let her take as much time as she wanted to look around each spot. 

She was exhilarated and exhausted at the same time when they finally headed back to his apartment. When they got upstairs, he told her to wait outside while he went in and did a survey of the place. He came back and invited her in, smiling. "We're good," he said. Jeanette stepped in and he shut and locked the door behind her. "Test is over, Jeanette," he said. "So, did you have fun?"

"Yes, it was wonderful!" she cried. " _Thank_ you!" She hugged him, then remembered where she was and froze for a second.

"That's great, I'm glad," he said brightly. He squeezed her back, then let her go without commenting on her sudden tension. "I had a really great time showing you everything. You're such an appreciative audience." She smiled. "You did a great job, too, by the way. I felt you tense when someone called a girl named Jean on the Eye, but you didn't turn. That was _very_ well done."

"Thank you, Ethan."

"You're welcome." They stood silently for a moment or two. Then Ethan said, "You must be exhausted. C'mon, you can have the bedroom."

He led her to it, a large, spacious bedroom with a king sized bed and a few other furnishings. "This is beautiful, thank you. You sure you'll be okay on the couch?"

"Are you kidding? I've slept in a lot worse places," he said. "Goodnight, Jeanette."

"Goodnight." He smiled and turned away. "Ethan?" He turned back to her. "Thanks a lot for tonight."

He smiled and turned away again, walking slowly back toward the living room. Jeanette shut the bedroom door. This one had a lock, but Jeanette didn't bother to lock herself in. She wasn't afraid of getting attacked in the night. Maybe that was delusional on her part, and he was trying to throw her off her guard, but that seemed too ridiculous. As she'd said before, if he wanted to rape her he could do it any time. He didn't have to wait for a special cue. It also seemed ridiculous that he would play the consummate tour guide and take her out for such an amazing night when he didn't have to (and when it was probably dangerous for him), only to attack her a few hours later. 

Come to think of it, that didn't seem like the behavior of an obsessed, power-hungry terrorist, either. She wasn't so sure about the CIA's idea that Ethan was perpetrating these terrorist acts himself, just to turn around and make a show of hunting the "Syndicate" down.

Jeanette pulled off her outer clothes, and went to bed in her t-shirt. She thought she would be up half the night thinking over the sights of London, or the attack moves she'd learned, or how she'd almost died less than 24 hours ago. But she dropped into a deep sleep almost the instant she pulled up the covers.


	10. On the Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Jeanette make a quick escape.

Jeanette was awakened by a loud pounding on her door. She sat up in bed, shocked. A second later, Ethan opened the door, looking tense and urgent. "Get dressed, we have to move _quick_."

"Okay," she said breathlessly. He closed the door and Jeanette hurriedly threw on the clothes she'd worn the night before. She came out, pulling on her shoes, and saw Ethan tossing things into a small suitcase.

"Can I help?"

He glanced at her. "Yeah, there's a bag in front of the dresser. Throw all the clothes in it for me?"

"Sure."

They packed hurriedly, and when everything was done, Ethan asked her to sit down and told her he was going to give her a partial mask. "What happened, Ethan?" she asked.

"I was spotted last night," he said. "My contact says a team is on the way." 

She gasped. "Did they see us both? What about the banks?"

"Didn't seem to recognize you," he said. "At least, I haven't been told they did. It might have been that I was spotted during that time we were separated at the bridge, or when we were in a crowd, so they didn't realize we were together. The informant might just have been careless, I'm not sure."

"How long until they get here?"

"There are a few other options they can try, and I'm pretty sure they won't think to look here first, but I don't want to take any chances. I want to be completely cleared out of here in no more than twenty minutes." Jeanette nodded and Ethan sat in front of her, pulling up a tray of what looked like random strips of dark brown latex. "Allergic to latex or anything?" he asked her.

"No, sir."

"Okay. Hold still and just relax, okay?"

"Sure."

Ethan began applying the pieces to Jeanette's face, attaching them with a special adhesive. He put pieces over her chin, forehead, and around her cheekbones. It felt like what he was doing would have to make her look ridiculous, like an overdone clown. But when he finished placing pieces and blending make-up, he let her see the results, and she was astonished. She looked like a completely different person, but with a hint of her same facial structure. She looked like she could be her own distant cousin.

"Oh my God."

"Good?"

"Amazing!"

"Great. Try not to touch it. You can smile, frown, whatever, don't worry about moving your face. But don't go rubbing your eyes or anything, okay?"

"Got it."

He nodded and packed up the gear. "Mine is going to be a full mask, so... don't freak out."

She laughed. "You're setting me up to freak out," she said.

Ethan chuckled and went to the desk. He picked up a mask that already had short black hair attached to it. With his back toward her, he ran his fingers through his own hair to tame it, then pulled the mask on. She watched him adjust it, tucking it under the back collar of his shirt, and doing some poking around the front that she couldn't see. He threw the last few things in his bag and zipped it up, then shrugged on his coat. Then he turned to Jeanette. 

Jeanette gasped and pulled back. The 35-year old, blue eyed stranger smiled at her and spoke with Ethan's voice. "Told you not to freak out," he said.

"But... what the _fuck_?" He laughed, and nothing happened - there was no tugging, or odd stretching. _No_ evidence whatsoever that it wasn't really his face. "What the _fuck?_ "

"I know." He smiled again, and she stared at him, trying to find evidence of the mask she'd seen him put on with her own eyes. She still couldn't see anything. It was _flawless_. 

"This is just scary."

"Come on. Desiree and Curt have a train to catch." Jeanette stood up and grabbed her bag, while Ethan hefted his. He patted her shoulder and gestured toward the door. She stepped out, but could hardly take her eyes off of him. The stranger smiled at her. "Try not to look at me like that the whole time," he said. "People are going to think I kidnapped you or something."

She looked quickly away from him, laughing at his somewhat dark humor. "So... did you intentionally make yourself look _more_ like Superman than you already do?"

He laughed. "I don't know, is that good or bad?"

"Good," she said. "I like your face the way it is, but this is nice, too."

"Then it was _all_ for you," he teased. "C'mon, we need to hustle now."

~ ~ ~

Getting on the train and out of the country was easier than Ethan expected. He thought Jeanette would have more trouble staying in character and dealing with officials without getting nervous, but she handled herself well. She stayed calm, and passed her false ID and passport to officials with the casual air of a person who knew they were hers. It was a relief, and when they were finally seated in a private car on the train, he congratulated her.

"You did a great job, kept a very cool head," he said. 

"Thank you!" She looked from side to side, as if she expected someone to be listening. "To be honest, I felt like I was going to pass out most of the time."

He laughed. "Well, it never showed," he said. "That was great practice for our next stop. When we get to Germany, we need to make a stop at the bank." She seemed nervous about that. "What's wrong?"

"If they spotted us, what if they changed the account codes? What if they follow us to the bank or something?"

"They won't know which bank we're going to try first," he answered. "It's possible they'll freeze all of them, but they may wait to see where we go."

"But that means as soon as we make a withdrawal, they'll be on top of us!"

"I know," he said. 

"What are we going to do?!"

Ethan put a hand on her knee, and spoke calmly, trying to cut off the panic he could see building in her. "It's going to be fine," he said. "I'll figure something out. Don't worry. Okay?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. He gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, then let her go. She watched him pensively for a few seconds, then stared out the window. Ethan shut his eyes and worked on a plan.


	11. Bank Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette tests her skills.

"I'm scared."

Ethan nodded. "I know you are. But this is the safest way. It's too dangerous for me to go with you now. If they _did_ see both of us, or if they go back and look at video footage, they'll be expecting a couple now."

Jeanette wrung her hands. "Shit! I'm sorry, that's my fault. I shouldn't have asked to go see that stuff."

"Hey," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You didn't ask, I invited you, remember? I don't regret it, either, we both deserved it." She took a deep breath and made effort to calm down. "Now, look. It's going to be _fine_. You work for the CIA, you're _authorized_ to do what you're about to do. You're going to walk in with ID, walk out with money, that's it."

Jeanette nodded and took another deep breath. "Okay."

"Good. You remember where to go afterward, right?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Good," he said. He smiled at her and gave her shoulders an extra squeeze. "You can _do_ this," he said. "Just remember, no matter _what_ happens, _behave_ as if you have a royal flush."

She smiled and nodded again. "Right. Okay. I can do this."

"You _absolutely_ can," he said seriously. "I have complete confidence in you, Jeanette, you're going to be just fine." Jeanette froze for a second, remembering how Jeff had said almost the same words to her before sending her off, basically, to her death. But Ethan's earnest face, and the sincerity in his tone rang true. Hearing the sentiment from him, she had no idea why she'd ever believed Jeff.

"Thank you, Ethan," she said. 

He gave her a nod. "I'll see you at the rendezvous in an hour. Good luck."

~ ~ ~

Jeanette gripped the strap of the leather satchel Ethan had bought for her, and took a deep, slow breath. She glanced at herself in the glass doors of the bank, brushing non-existent lint off of her lapel. She was going in without any changes to her face. Ethan reasoned that if she made the withdrawal, they would have to know it was her, since she would be using her own personal account access codes, so there was no point in hiding. Still, she felt nervous going in and basically committing a crime without even trying to hide it.

Finally, she told herself there was nothing more to do but just _do_ it. She stepped into the bank, faking a confidence that she hardly felt. A few people glanced at her when she came in, and she gave them pleasant smiles, then turned her attention to the people seated away from the regular tellers.

An older, gray-haired woman looked up at her from one of the desks and smiled. "Guten morgen. Kann ich Ihnen helfen?"

"Ja, bitte," she said (she'd been refreshing her college German with Ethan most of the morning). "Sprechen Sie Englisch?"

The woman smiled. "Yes, ma'am, I do. Please have a seat."

"Thank you." She took a seat, settling her satchel in her lap. "I may need a manager, I'm not sure. I need to make a large withdrawal."

"I may be able to help you," the woman - Nora, according to the placard on her desk - said. "What is the amount?"

Jeanette opened the satchel and pulled out the note she had written according to Ethan's instructions. It was a dollar amount (sixty-five thousand Euros), and the types of bills he wanted. She passed it to the woman, whose eyebrows rose. Jeanette smiled. "I know, it's quite a lot. But the account holds much more. Can I give you the number?"

"Of course," Nora said, setting the paper down. Jeanette gave her the number of one of ten accounts that she'd had to work with frequently. She dealt with them so much that she knew the numbers by heart, and all the intricate access codes required to withdraw or deposit. As Ethan had said, it was part of her job to finance agents, and she often wired money to and from various banks to assist their field agents. Usually, the requests came from Analysts, not the agents themselves, and there was no danger of the finance officer being shot or arrested for treason, but... there was a first time for everything.

Nora looked up at her. "May I see your identification, please?"

"Of course." Jeanette pulled our her ID - a copy of her real work identification that Ethan had created the night before. "And you'll need the access code?"

"Yes, but let me contact my manager first. One moment, please."

Jeanette nodded pleasantly, but her heart had begun to race. This was the part she dreaded. Nora and the bank manager would verify her identification. What if they discovered she was supposed to be dead? What if they arrested her on the spot, and she ended up stuck in a German prison with no way to prove who she was? She'd tried to bring these things up to Ethan, but he told her everything would be fine and not to worry so much.

She sat with every appearance of patience and calm, but she could practically hear the blood rushing through her veins. She glanced toward the manager and Nora, who were discussing her request. After the first glance, she forced herself not to look at them again. She didn't want them to think she was nervous.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Nora came back with the bank manager (a tall, blonde woman about forty years old). "Good morning," she said. "My name is Anne, I'm the manager here."

"Pleased to meet you," Jeanette said, shaking hands with the woman. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is fine. We just had to verify your identification. If you will provide your access code, please, so that we can authorize the withdrawal?"

"Of course."

Nora sat at the computer, and when she had typed in a few keys, she looked expectantly at Jeanette. Jeanette felt her nervousness rising. _Royal Flush_ , she thought. She smiled pleasantly, wrote the code on a slip of paper and passed it to Nora. The woman entered the information, then Anne entered her managerial code. After a few moments, and a few more keystrokes, Nora and Anne looked up at her with pleasant expressions on their faces. "If you could come with us, please?" Anna asked. "For your safety, we don't give anything over ten thousand euros in the public area."

Jeanette stood up, feeling weak in the knees, but managing to follow the women without falling on her face. It made sense, but she couldn't help imagining that they were actually taking her to the back to lock her in until the police came. But in the end, everything was, indeed, just fine. They took her to a private room, then brought in more cash than Jeanette had ever seen up close. They used money counters to verify the amounts, then bundled most of it with paper holders. They kept two thousand Euros out and placed them in an envelope for her. The rest, they placed into cloth bags, and fitted them into her case for her.

Jeanette, the manager, and Nora all signed the withdrawal slip, and a copy was given to Jeanette for her records. "Thank you very much," she said. "I appreciate your help."

"Thank _you_ , ma'am. Have a pleasant day."

Jeanette could hardly believe it when she walked out of the bank. She moved with the same confidence she'd faked coming in, and she made sure not to hurry - to keep a casual pace, as Ethan had suggested. Running away made it look like she'd done something wrong. But even though everything had gone smoothly, she felt nervous as she left the bank. It wasn't just the fact that she was carrying about ten times more cash than she'd ever had in her bank account at one time. She felt like it had been almost _too_ easy. She couldn't help feeling that at any minute, someone - a bank security guard, a CIA agent, maybe someone from the Syndicate - was going to jump out of the shadows and grab her.

Nothing happened when she walked three blocks south of the bank. Nothing happened when she turned right and walked four more blocks to the shopping center where she'd been instructed to grab lunch. She was too nervous to eat, but she got a drink (using money from her purse, without disturbing or exposing Ethan's funds), and walked slowly through the mall, looking at stores, and trying to catch sight of sneaky people following her in the reflections of the shop windows. No one was. 

Jeanette did her best to look like a regular shopper. She went into a couple of stores, and even bought something so she could carry a bag around. She got a Superman belt buckle - the emblem a shiny black, trimmed in silver, and with a bright white background. She was amused for about five minutes by imagining Ethan's reaction, before her worries crowded her again.

Despite the fact that she couldn't seem to see any evidence of someone tailing her, Jeanette just couldn't make herself relax. Even though it didn't make sense, she wished Ethan had met her right outside the bank, or right away at the mall, instead of insisting on meeting up a whole hour later. 

Still, she made it through the longest hour of her life. She was still paranoid when she got up and made her way toward the rendezvous. Even with all her senses tingling, and every nerve seemingly on edge, Jeanette was _completely_ taken aback when, just a few blocks from the mall, a large hand grabbed her and dragged her backwards into a shadowed alleyway.


	12. Call of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette is called upon to serve her country.

Jeanette opened her mouth to scream, but her assailant covered her mouth before she could make a sound. For a split second, she panicked. Who was it? She was going to _die_! Then, her single intensive day of training kicked in, and she twisted, and swung back and up hard with her elbow. She caught the man in the ribs, but didn't stop to congratulate herself. She kicked back hard as she could with the heel of her leather boots and the man grunted sharply. 

"Shit!" The man got hold of her other arm and started to pull her back. She kicked back again, and he hissed. "Dammit, Jeanette, _stop_!" 

Jeanette gasped, and the man swung her and pressed her firmly, but not roughly, against the wall of the alley. "Jeff!" she cried. "Oh my God! Thank _God_ , I... I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" 

The sandy-haired agent shook his head, although he looked irritated. "I'm okay, Jeanette," he said. "You've got a few tricks up your sleeve though, don't you?" She smiled, pleased that he'd noticed, even though she didn't exactly want to tell him where she learned. 

"Thank _God_ you're here!" she said again. She certainly didn't want Ethan to get caught anymore. But the thought that she was finally going to be rescued and taken away from the danger of the Syndicate, or of accidentally being killed by the CIA if they tried to attack Hunt, was _such_ a relief. 

"How _are_ you?" Jeff asked, giving her a quick hug. "I'm so glad you're alive!" 

"Me, too," she said. She pulled away from him, frowning. Her initial relief at seeing a familiar face began to fade, and her anger and resentment began to bubble up. "Why didn't you _tell_ me who I was going after, Jeff? You could have got me _killed_!" 

He gave her a remorseful look. "I'm sorry, Jeanie," he said. "I know I should have been straight with you, but I knew you would be too scared to go if I told you the whole truth." 

She gasped, astonished. "With _reason_ , Jeff! He's a twenty year _veteran_ off the fucking IMF, and you-" 

"Look, that's not the point right now," he said. "We need to-" 

" _Talk_ about the fact that you lied, and you _tricked_ me and almost got me _killed_? Because-" 

Jeff scowled at her. "If you'd paid _attention_ when I trained you on-" 

"Oh don't you _dare_ , Jeff, don't you _dare_ talk to me about training! _Nobody_ in their right mind would expect a rookie to go after Hunt!" 

"Je-" 

"And I haven't had a _fraction_ of the training a rookie would get! And as for-"

"Jean-"

"-attention, I did EVERYTHING you taught me to do, so maybe it's _you_ and-"

"Stop-

"- pathetic, half-assed, fucking sorry excuse of a _shit_ training you gave me was _not_ -" 

" _Jeanette STOP_ ," he shouted, grabbing her arms and shaking her hard. Her eyes widened and her lips practically disappeared in her fury. Jeff let her go immediately. "Okay, _okay_!" he cried, raising his hands. "I'm sorry! Buy you've made your point, okay?" She continued to scowl, hot with rage, but tried to force herself to calm down. Jeff was her ticket home, and she'd have to travel with him for hours. He let out a little sigh of relief when she didn’t shout again. "Okay?" he asked more quietly. "Forgiven?" 

She shrugged, but gave him a begrudging nod. "But you and I are over, you know that." His eyes widened, then he frowned at her. "Why are you giving me that look? You _had_ to know that, Jeffrey. After what you did to me, what other end result could you _possibly_ have expected?" 

"Guess I did know," he said, still frowning. "But I hoped you could..." He was stopped by the expression on her face. "Alright. No more discussion about that. We need to move on, I don't have a lot of time." 

"Fine," she said. "I'm actually surprised they sent you here personally to get me," she said.

"The Director figured I got you into this, so I should be involved in fixing it," he said. 

She nodded. "Well, I hope it doesn't go too badly for you after this," she said, trying to be gracious. "When do we leave? Do we have a flight directly out of Germany, or do we have to..." She trailed off. Jeff was shaking his head. 

"No, Jeanette. I'm not here to take you home." 

Jeanette's jaw dropped and she froze. She stared at him for a few seconds before she was finally able to speak. " _What_? What does... what do you _mean_?" 

He sighed. "The decision has been made to keep you on this mission." 

She pulled back in shock. " _WHAT?_ " 

"I'm sorry," he said. "Really. I pushed for you to be brought back in. But we have an opportunity here, and-" 

" _What_?" She could feel frustrated, angry tears filling her eyes. "A... an opportunity? I'm... I'm just a _clerk_ , Jeff! Even Director Hunley said it was crazy to send me out here! Now you're telling me I have to _stay_?" 

Jeff pursed his lips in frustration. "Look, I _told_ you I tried to get you back in. You don't have to bite my head off about it, the decision came from higher up than me. It came from the Chief Analyst _himself_ , okay? You've been ordered stick to Hunt and cooperate with him. He obviously trusts you, he let you do the work at the bank without him. We want you to stay with him and report his movements. If you can get some proof that he's orchestrating these so-called Syndicate attacks-" She shook her head. "What's the problem?" he asked. 

"It won't _work_ , that's the _problem_!" she snapped. "Now that the department is sure I'm alive, they'll freeze all the accounts and he won't have a reason to keep me. He'll kill me, or send me away himself!" 

"Jeanette, you're not _thinking_. I just _told_ you, the Chief Analyst wants you to stay with him. We're going to keep the accounts open so you'll _stay_ useful to him." 

Jeanette swallowed past a lump in her throat, stung by the sharp contempt in Jeff's tone. She supposed she should expect it, especially after she'd just dumped him. But on top of the fact that he'd gotten her into this, and he _wasn't_ getting her out, the tone stung worse than it should. She pushed past it, keeping focused on the important thing - staying alive. "Okay," she said. "But won't it make him suspicious if I suddenly have unlimited access? Why don't they just pick him up now if they're so worried about him being a terrorist?" 

"Because they can't _prove_ it was him, any more than he can prove it was the Syndicate," Jeff said. " _You_ are the only one close enough to him right now to help get us some proof." 

She shook her head. "No, no, he's too sharp! He'll figure out what I'm doing right away. You're trying to get me _killed_! I won't-" 

"You _don't_ have a choice, Davis!" Jeff snapped. She couldn't hold back the tears anymore, but she glared furiously at him. His own angry features barely softened. "Listen, I understand this is frustrating," he said. "But this is what it means to work for the CIA, no matter what your position is. You do as you're told. You _can't_ refuse, because we _aren't_ going to take you in." 

"Don't... don't I have any _rights_? I'm a U.S. citizen, right? I-" 

Jeff laughed at her. "You didn't read the fine print of your contract, did you?" 

"I _did_! I read the clause about being asked to do additional duties outside our job description _within reason_. What kind of-" 

"Who do you think determines what 'within reason' means, Jeanette? The _Chief Analyst_ has ultimate say, right under the Director. And his decision has been made. Your accounts are going to stay open, and _you_ are going to stay with Hunt and keep us informed about his comings and goings. There _are_ no other choices." 

Jeanette clenched her fists, but lowered her head in defeat. "Alright," she said heavily, wiping away the tears and forcing herself to pull it together. 

"I'm sorry," he said again, his tone gentler this time. "I know I got you into this, and I'm sure you hate me right now. But you'll be fine. You're a civilian, he's not likely to do anything to you." 

"You think he's a terrorist who kills innocent people just to play the hero!" she cried. "If that’s true, what's to stop him from hurting _me?_ " 

He looked uncomfortable, and reached out to hug her, then seemed to remember they were broken up. He patted he shoulder awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he said again. Jeanette shook her head. She doubted he was sorry, but she didn't bother to tell him how she felt. It made no difference. "Here," he said, handing her a phone. "You can use this to contact us. Now, we'll never endanger you by calling you, but check in as often as you can. Be safe about it." 

"Okay, Jeff," she said, taking the phone from him. 

"Okay," he said, smiling. "Cheer up, Jeanette. You made it! You're fast-tracked to field agent, and you're on a really _vital_ mission." Jeanette forced a smile, although what she really wanted to do was punch him in the throat. "It's no easy task to gain Hunt's trust," he continued. "But you did it in a matter of hours. I'm proud of you." 

"Thank you," she said, the same forced smile on her face. 

He nodded. "Where are you supposed to meet him next?" 

"I'm not sure," she said, the lie flowing more easily than she’d expected. "I was suppose to wait at the mall for further instructions, but he hasn't gotten back to me yet. I decided to take a walk, get away from the mall crowd." 

Jeff nodded again. "He'll contact you soon enough, I'm sure," he said. "And when you get the evidence we need, we'll pull Hunt in and slap him with the proof! Then _we_ will have taken down the biggest fish in CIA _history_." The smile froze on Jeanette’s face, and she marshaled every last shred of willpower she had to keep from asking him who the fuck he meant by "we". "Sorry about how this got started," he said. "Maybe when it's all over, you'll reconsider-" She narrowed her eyes, and he smiled sheepishly. "Maybe not. Either way, good luck, Jeanette. You'll hear from me again soon." 

She nodded, and Jeff left her alone. When he was out of sight, Jeanette pounded her fist against the brick wall behind her. She let the tears come again, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do. Inform on Ethan? She felt that at this point, Ethan was the only person in the whole organization that she could trust. How could they force her to stay out here? How could they ask her to betray him? And if she _didn't_ betray him, what would they do to her? 

Jeanette forced herself to move forward. She was already late to the rendezvous. She didn't know what the hell she was supposed to do yet, but she couldn't just hang around the alley with tens of thousands of dollars in her bag. She made her way to the meeting place. 

She worried at first, that maybe she should wait longer, or ask Ethan to meet her somewhere else. But she wasn't familiar with the area, so where could she tell him to go? Besides, she was fairly certain that the CIA wasn't going to follow her. After all, she'd basically been ordered to tell them every move he made, so they would know where his hideout was soon enough anyway. 

When Jeanette arrived at the particular courtyard Ethan had pointed out before, she saw him (not wearing any disguise) waiting pensively beside the fountain. Jeanette hurried to him, and he looked relieved when he saw her. "Hey. How'd it- what's the matter?" He frowned worriedly at her. "You look upset, what happened?" 

She forced a smile. "No, I... I'm fine." Jeanette looked down, clutching the bag tightly. She didn't know what to do. Shit! 

"Jeanette?" 

She shut her eyes and thought about Jeff forcing her into this without even telling her who she was going after, and then trying to blame _her_ for getting caught. She thought about the CIA chasing Ethan and assuming he was a villain without even giving him a chance to show them the evidence he’d collected. And she thought about how they were making her stay out here, even though _they_ were the ones who thought he was some kind of vicious, ego-maniacal terrorist. 

Then she thought about how Ethan had leveled with her at every step. The one time he'd hurt her, he was actually tricking Kates and Hunley, and he'd believed (quite reasonably) that she had to be more experienced than she really was. Even when he’d told her he needed her help, he’d given her a choice. It wasn’t the best choice, but Jeff hadn’t even bothered to give her the _illusion_ of choice. 

Jeanette made her decision. She opened her eyes again and looked up at the worried face of Ethan Hunt. "I... I..." Wait. What if the phone was bugged? What if it had it a listening device in it that could hear her whether she called on it or not? That would be like them - it would make sense for a group that never trusted anyone. 

Hunt was frowning at her more deeply now. "Talk to me, Jeanette," he said.

"S-sorry, sir," she said nervously. His eyebrows rose. "I... w-was just scared you'd be mad at me. I'm _so_ s-sorry I'm late, sir. I hope you won't... I... I got the money like you told me to." 

Ethan's eyes narrowed, and he glanced around briefly before looking back at her. "If everything went so well, what _took_ you so long?" he asked sharply. She suppressed a relieved sigh, and fought against the desire to smile, just in case someone _was_ watching them. She should have known he would catch on, and play along right away. 

"I... I stopped at the mall l-like you said, and... I got something for you while I was there. But it... th-the lady gave me a hard time at the counter, and it took longer than I thought and then I didn't see your message for the second location until a little while ago, and..." 

"This wasn't exactly the time to go shopping, Davis," Ethan snapped. 

"I know, sir," she said in a placating tone. "I'm sorry. But you were so stressed when we left, I..." She clutched her hands together, showing nervousness that was only partially an act. “Can... can I show you what I got for you? It's... I think you'd like it." 

Ethan let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine, but make it fast." 

Jeanette reached into her pocket and grasped the phone. She looked down, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. God, if she did this, there was no going back. It meant she was _officially_ committing treason - it wasn't coercion anymore, she was _actively_ defying the CIA. She shut her eyes briefly, feeling like she might puke right onto her beautiful leather bag full of cash. She struggled to gather her courage. If she was wrong about Ethan, she was helping a terrorist - a _traitor_. 

Her eyes were filled with tears when she looked at him again. He watched her - his face concerned, but open. She wasn't wrong, she _couldn't_ be. If forty-eight hours was enough time to know any man, she felt like she knew Ethan Hunt. She knew him well enough to know that he wasn't a traitor, no matter what the CIA thought. Finally, she took a deep breath and slowly pulled out the cell phone. 

Ethan looked stunned. He looked around quickly, but Jeanette shook her head and he nodded his understanding. He put both hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. His gaze was incredibly intense, so much so that she shuddered, but she kept her eyes on his. " _Thank you_ ," he silently mouthed to her. Jeanette nodded. "Cute," he said aloud. "But you endangered us, wasting time arguing with some stupid clerk. Send me a message next time if you're going to be late." 

"Yes, sir." 

He took her arm and rubbed her shoulder with his thumb before tugging her along. "Come on, let's move."


	13. The Right Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan has friends in high places

They were silent for the rest of the trip to the safe house. Ethan noticed that Jeanette seemed to be going through some changes. She started shivering soon after they left the square, and by the time they got inside she was crying quietly. He gave her as much nonverbal consolation as he could, but there wasn't much he could do for her. 

If she had a department phone, it obviously meant someone had gotten to her. The only thing she could have expected was to be taken to safety, but she'd been ordered to report on him instead. Ethan was sure she must be devastated, whatever she felt about him. He was just grateful that she'd chosen to tell him. It could easily have gone another way, and that would have been disastrous.

Once inside the small apartment, Ethan guided a still-crying Jeanette to a seat. He gave her arm a squeeze, then put a finger to his lips, telling her to keep quiet. He held out his hand and she handed him the phone. Ethan checked it carefully, opening the back and checking for anything suspicious. There were no bugs in the phone itself, and he allowed himself a relieved sigh. He didn't tell Jeanette yet, he didn't trust whoever it was not to have bugged her directly. He put the phone back together, powered it on and turned off all GPS services before turning it off again and setting it aside.

He went back to Jeanette and looked at her apologetically before saying sternly, "On your feet!"

Confused, she stood up, and Ethan ran his hands gently down her arms and checked her pockets carefully. "What... what are you-"

"I'm checking for bugs," he said. "That story about the mall? Give me a break."

"But-"

"Look, don't _argue_ , just fucking stand there!" She stayed quiet, and Ethan squeezed her shoulder again and smiled at her, trying to let her know it was just for show. He checked her jacket thoroughly, checked her purse and the money bags, then checked her hair. _There._ Ethan carefully picked out the small mic and showed it to her. Jeanette gasped. "What the _fuck_ is this?" he shouted.

Jeanette cringed. "I... I don't know, s-sir. What-"

"Bullshit! You playing games with me? Who did this, someone at the bank?"

"I... I don't know, I swear, I-"

"Enough!" he shouted. She looked really scared, and Ethan thought he needed to stop the charade. "Well nobody's coming to save you off of _this_! You have a lot more work to do before I'm done with you!" He tossed the bug to the ground and smashed it under his heel. He looked down at it to make sure it was destroyed, then looked back at Jeanette. She edged back nervously, but Ethan hastened to reassure her. "It's okay, Jeanette," he said calmly. "That was for them."

She sighed with relief, lifting a shaking hand to her face. "God, you're _really_ good at that."

"Sorry." She nodded, but a moment later, she covered her face with both hands and started to cry. "Okay, it's okay, Jeanette." He reached out and stroked her arms, and she leaned against him immediately. Ethan wrapped his arms around her and sighed. "I know," he said sympathetically. "You thought you were going home." She sobbed louder and nodded. "I'm sorry. _Thank you_ for telling me, Jeanette." She tensed subtly, and Ethan pulled her back and took hold of her arms again. "Jeanette? Look at me?" She looked up into his eyes, and Ethan spoke slowly and deliberately. "You did the _right thing_." She gave him a hesitant smile, but lowered her eyes again almost immediately. "I know you're scared. You might not be sure you should have trusted me now that it's done. But you have _good_ instincts, Jeanette. I know it's coming from me, so it may not help much, but you _did_ do the right thing."

She nodded and brushed tears from her eyes. "Thank you, Ethan," she said. "I... I'm sorry I'm just... freaking out, I..."

"I understand. Making those kinds of decisions is never easy, no matter how long you've been in the service. But I'm _very_ grateful you told me." She nodded again. He smiled at her. "And you did a _great_ job telling me what was going on back there. It was clever, and your acting was perfect, anybody would have believed you were afraid of me."

Jeanette smiled, and Ethan was glad to see the genuine pleasure in her eyes. "Thank you, I... that means a lot. Especially coming from you."

Ethan nodded and gestured for her to sit down. "Here, bet you could use one of these," he said. He found the bottle of Jack Daniels he usually kept in every safe house, and a couple of tumblers, then sat across from her and poured them both a drink.

"Thanks."

"Tell me what happened," he said, after she'd had a chance to take a swig and start to relax. 

She told him about getting jumped just past the mall, and the entire conversation she had with Jeffrey Kates. She became visibly upset when she talked about being accused of not reading the fine print in her contract. "Then he told me the _Chief Analyst_ determines what's _reasonable_ , and-"

"Wait, wait," Ethan said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but did you say the Chief Analyst?"

"Yes," she answered, sounding slightly confused.

"Is _that_ where your orders came from?" She nodded, and Ethan smiled, pulling out his phone. 

"What does that mean?" Jeanette asked.

"If it is what I think it is, then it means you definitely made the right choice. It might mean we have help in high places. Excuse me for one second, I just need to confirm something."

"Sure," she said, looking hopeful now. 

Ethan called Jane directly and she answered immediately. "Go secure," he said.

After a second, her voice came back, "Done. What can I do for you?"

"Everything go okay when you got back?" he asked.

"Yup. No issues."

"Great. Listen, did Hunley replace Brandt as Chief Analyst?"

"No," she said, perplexed. "He's still Chief Analyst." 

Ethan sighed and grinned at Jeanette. "Thanks, Jane."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. Just... next time you see him, tell him I said thanks. He'll know what it means."

"Sure. Hey. Hang in there."

"Thanks, you too." He hung up the phone and smiled at Jeanette.

"Turned out the way you wanted?" she asked.

He nodded. "You may not like it very much, but you’re still here because a friend of mine has given you to me as a gift."

"Huh?"

"The Chief Analyst? He was a member my IMF team."

" _Huh?_ "

Ethan smiled. "If this order came from him, it means _he's_ funding my mission."

Jeanette gasped. "He... he fixed it so they would never freeze my accounts!"

"Exactly. And it doesn't matter what we tell them on that phone, Brandt will find a way to make it fly with Hunley. In fact, we can lay false trails for them whenever we want, and stay a step ahead of them every time."

"That's _great_!" she cried, hopping up and giving him a hug. "You have some great friends," she said.

"I do," he said. "I'm very fortunate. Lucky to have _you_ with me, too. Not everyone would have risked defying them the way you did."

She smiled at him. "I'm glad I can help you. You're..." He felt her arms tighten around him, and he held still, waiting for her to make a move if she wanted to. She blushed, and a second later, she pulled away from him. "Hey," she said nervously. "I really did get you something from the mall, you know."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said, turning away. She grabbed the single plastic bag she had with her, and handed it to him. "I hope you like it."

Ethan raised his eyebrows, wondering what on earth she could have thought to buy him. He opened the bag and peeked inside. There was a small black box inside without any labeling. He opened it, saw the sleek, shiny Superman belt buckle, and laughed. "It's perfect," he said. "I love it!"

"I'm glad," she said, grinning. "It's... accurate," she said.

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said. "I'm no superhero. I don't have special powers."

"That isn't what makes him a hero," she said. "It's..." She blushed again. "It's doing what's right even when it's the most difficult thing to do, and when you don't _have_ to do it."

"But... I _do_ have to do it," he said. "I _have_ to find him and stop him."

"No, Ethan," she said. "You _choose_ to. But you don't _have_ to. You have sixty-five thousand dollars, and a woman who can get you more - as much money as you could ever want. You could retire to Cancun in a week if you wanted to. But instead, you're out here moving from apartment to apartment, working to bring down an evil organization as big as the CIA, _while_ being hunted by the people you're trying to help. It seems pretty heroic to me."

He smiled at her. "Thanks, Jeanette." She smiled back. "If it means anything to you, I think by those standards, you're heroic, too." She looked surprised. "And before you say you don't have a choice, you could easily go get that money and use it for yourself, too," he said. She shook her head. "You could leave in the night, I don't have you locked in or tied up. You've got fake IDs and you know how to use them, you could be gone before I could catch you if you really wanted to. But you're toughing it out to help me. It means a lot to me."

Jeanette smiled again. "This may be the most important thing I've ever done. Or that I'll ever get to do. It might not seem like it - especially the next time you start tossing me around the room - but I'm glad I'm here."


	14. Charade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan and Jeanette play a dangerous game.

They left Germany almost immediately. They couldn't hit another bank in the same area so soon, and even though Ethan was pretty confident the CIA wasn't going to try to pick him up just yet, he told Jeanette he didn't want to take any chances. They packed up their gear that evening, and prepared to leave on a late night train. 

Before they left the hotel, Ethan instructed Jeanette to call in to report to Kates. "Now's the time to bluff low," he said. "Let him think you're losing. You're scared, you're moving out first thing in the morning but you don't know where, okay? You think you heard me say something about Cairo."

"Got it," she answered. She picked up the phone, and Ethan stopped her. 

"Go into the closet," he said. She raised her eyebrows. "They'll play it back looking for clues. The ambient sounds should confirm that you're hiding from me."

She looked at him in amazement. "No wonder you've survived in the field this long." 

He chuckled waved her into the closet. "I'll cue you when I want you to stop."

She hid herself inside, crouching down as if she really were hiding from him, even though she knew he was sitting outside the door listening to her. She called her main office number, but when she identified herself, she was immediately transferred to another number. 

"Brandt," a man's voice answered. 

"Uhhh..." She was confused - Brandt was the name of Ethan's former team mate - the Chief Analyst. Should she... no she had no idea who might be listening in. She played as if she had no idea who he was. "I... I was trying to get Jeffrey Kates," she whispered. "This is Jeanette Davis."

She heard a finger snap and a muffled, "It's her." Then, more clearly, he said, "I'm William Brandt, the Chief Analyst, Jeanette. You're going to talk directly to me from now on, Kates has been reassigned. Are you okay? Where is Hunt now?"

"Taking a shower," she whispered. "I... I'm in the closet."

"So he doesn't tie you up when he leaves you alone?"

"No, sir," she answered. "But he locks up all the IDs, and... I... I'd never... if I tried to get out where would I even go? He could find me in a second."

"I'm sure he could," Brandt said. "You're right to be careful. Now, you have something for us?"

"I think... he said something on the phone about Cairo tomorrow, but-" She heard a muffled noise outside the door, and the door handle began to turn slowly. Jeanette gasped. " _Shit_. I have to-"

"Go, go," Brandt said. "Be careful."

She hung up the phone, and checked to make sure the connection was closed before she opened the door. "Good work, Jeanette, you were perfect," Ethan said, smiling. 

"Thank you! That was the Chief Analyst," she said.

"Really?"

She nodded. "He said Kates was reassigned, and I'm going to report to him directly from now on."

Ethan grinned. "Come on, let's get moving." They left the apartment and were on a train within an hour on their way to Italy. 

For the next several weeks, Jeanette traveled with Ethan Hunt. He continued to train her, both physically, and in other aspects of field work. He told her that he had worked as a trainer for a few years before taking a brief hiatus from the service, and that he was basically putting her through the intermediate training course. He taught her how to disarm, load, clean and fire a gun, and taught her how to pay attention to her surroundings to be sure that her bullets didn't go through their targets and hit innocent people. He taught her how to say "airport", "train station", "bus depot", "embassy" and "hospital" in ten different languages (as well as how to say "left", "right" and "straight"). 

They had what Ethan called "Silent Days", which he said were designed to hone her non-verbal communication skills. For an entire 12-hour period, Jeanette wasn't allowed to speak to him, _or_ use actual sign language. She could use military signs for "stop", "go", "right" etc, but she had to make up her own visual cues for everything else. If she forgot, or got frustrated and spoke to him anyway, she had to do ten push-ups for every word. Needless to say, she got good at making herself clear without words pretty quickly.

Ethan dedicated a good amount of time to training Jeanette, but his primary focus was tracking down the Syndicate. He received a call about every two weeks from Jane - the woman Jeanette had met the first day she was captured. She felt pleased that he trusted her enough to tell her the woman's name, and to discuss the details of the information she sent to him. Jane provided confirmation of the identities of people Ethan had seen during their travels, updated him on how the CIA was doing with their search for him, and provided him additional names to try to run down. Usually, after there was a call from Jane, they were on a train or an airplane the next morning, either in search of someone, or to avoid capture by the CIA. 

They bounced around the globe, from the Philippines to Turkey to Indonesia. Each time they traveled, Ethan gave Jeanette instructions on what to report to Brandt in her "secret" calls. And each time they traveled, Ethan seemed to get more and more frustrated. He'd shown her a picture of the man he was trying to track down. He had no name for the man, just called him The Key, or (more often) simply "Him". Disaster seemed to follow them around, and Ethan attributed every act to "Him", no matter how coincidental it seemed. A dignitary had been killed in a bad car accident while Jeanette was making a withdrawal a few miles away, and Ethan assured her it was the work of the Syndicate. A power plant caught fire, a plane disappeared, a postal center was destroyed by a gas main leakage - and Ethan had an explanation for how each one had been caused by The Key, and why. 

If she hadn't grown to trust him, Jeanette might have thought he was delusional. But she knew that he wasn't. Obsessed, he most _certainly_ was, but not delusional. All his energy was focused on taking _Him_ down - finding him and bringing him to justice. He looked at the sketch he'd made of the man often, and cautioned Jeanette that if she ever saw him while she was alone, she was to contact him _immediately_ , then find her way to the nearest embassy and go straight home. "Don't panic. Do _not_ draw attention to yourself. Just text me and casually leave, and _get home_ , do not pass go, understand?"

"Understood." His vehemence had startled her, and she hoped she would _never_ ever see this man who had managed to capture Ethan Hunt (however briefly), and who Ethan seemed to believe was capable of orchestrating so much destruction.

During the sixth week of her "tour of duty" with Ethan, they returned to Europe. Jane reported that several of the agents Ethan had been tracking had been spotted in various European countries. They didn't seem to be doing anything, just entering the country and settling into obscurity again, but it was enough to make Ethan change his base of operations. 

Once they arrived in Paris, he set up in a barren looking loft. It was a single (if it could be called even that much) - a large attic-like space with bleached wood floors, pale walls and a single extra room - the tiniest bathroom Jeanette had ever seen. The only furnishings were a table, two rickety looking dining chairs and a single cot in one corner. "Sorry, it's not the best," Ethan told her. "But we have to tread lightly - things are heating up at both ends for us now. You take the bed, of course. I'll get a few extra blankets and take the floor."

"Sure, Ethan," she said. "But couldn't we bring up an extra mattress for you at least? It-"

"Would attract too much attention," he said. "We're going deep under, that means only essentials. I'll stock up while you make another trip to the bank."

Ethan set a meeting place, and explained how to get there from the bank in question. Then he put on his "Curtis" face and disguised her as Desiree. They were going so low key that Ethan insisted they leave separately. He went out first, and told her to follow through a different building exit than he had taken in about thirty minutes.

Jeanette did as instructed, took a cab to the national bank and pulled out $150,000 worth of Euros, Pounds and American Dollars. She was at the meeting place, a small cafe near the civic center, within an hour of leaving the apartment. She sat out in the patio, as instructed, then ordered a cup of cappuccino and pretended that she didn't have a small fortune in her bag while she waited for Ethan to arrive.

After about thirty minutes, he did come. He was about five minutes early, and she was surprised to see he was out of costume. He seemed relaxed, though, so she figured the supply shopping had gone well and he didn't feel need to hide himself just to pick her up. She smiled at him and he smiled back and beckoned to her with a tilt of his head. 

Jeanette grabbed her bag and walked out to meet him. "How'd it go? Everything go well?" He nodded. Jeanette glanced up and smiled. "What's this? You wearing lifts or something?" He snickered and nodded, then lifted a finger to his lips in a "shushing" sign and winked. Jeanette nodded, and Ethan gestured for her to follow. It felt the tiniest bit strange walking beside him, since he was a couple inches taller with the lifts than she was used to. But it made sense, especially if he was going out with his own face while the heat was on. The extra height might help to keep people from realizing it was him right away.

They didn't seem to be walking in the direction of the train station, but Ethan knew what he was doing, so Jeanette didn't question it at first. Still, when they started to move into a less pleasant neighborhood, she began to look around and wonder just where it was they were going. Just when she was going to ask him what was up, he guided her into a dilapidated looking building. It was a small bungalow on the edge of a construction site. He let her go and pulled out a set of keys. "What are we doing here?" she asked.

He looked at her and frowned, shaking his head. She winced and mouthed " _sorry_ ", wondering if he was worried about the money being bugged. He'd said the pressure was higher on both sides now - anything was possible. Ethan smiled at her, and went back to dealing with the door. He got the door open and let her walk in first. 

Jeanette stepped slowly into the dark room, relieved when Ethan turned on a small lamp. The room was dusty, and she could see footprints back and forth on the floor, surrounded by half an inch of more of the heavy dust. She stepped further in to get out of the doorway, and Ethan came in and shut the door behind him. He extended his hand for the bag, and Jeanette handed it to him.

He looked inside and smiled broadly, with a look of greed in his eyes that startled Jeanette. He never looked so happy to see the money, it never seemed to be that big a deal to him. Just a tool for getting around safely. She took a hesitant step back, and Ethan looked up at her. He grinned again, reached toward his belt and pulled out a gun.

Jeanette gasped and jumped back. "Ethan?"

"Not quite," he said, and Jeanette staggered back in shock.

" _Jeff_ ," she breathed. 

Ethan's face smiled and nodded. He aimed at the gun at her head. "You shouldn't have rejected me, Jeanie," he said.

"You're... you're going to... kill me because I _dumped_ you?" she asked, backing away a step.

"You _humiliated_ me, the whole fucking floor heard our conversation!" 

Jeanette's chest heaved. "I didn't know that, Jeff. I'm-"

"Shut up!" Ethan's features twisted into a vicious snarl. "You got me fired, you useless bitch!" He smiled, a nasty, mean smile. "Fortunately, the Syndicate was hiring new recruits with valuable assets." Jeanette gasped. "Doesn't get more valuable than this," he said, pointing to his own head. "And they're so well connected they were able to figure out when and where your bank account number was used within _minutes_ after I told them the numbers. Picking you up was easy after that. A little boost of funds for the cause," he said, lifting the satchel with one hand. "And Ethan Hunt gets to kill the Finance girl for real this time."

"No," she whispered. He grinned and cocked the pistol. Jeanette held up her hands. "Jeff wait! Don't!" There was a blast, and Jeanette's body jolted with the sound. She was sure she'd been shot, but a second later, Ethan's eyes clouded and his face went slack. Jeff dropped to his knees, then fell face down on the floor. It was a full second before Jeanette realized that there was a hole in the side of his head, seeping blood at an alarming rate.

"Jeanette?!" 

She jumped at the strident shout. There was just time enough to think that she should try to get the gun from the body and then recoil from the idea, before a new figure entered the shed. She pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath when the new man rushed in. It was "Curtis" - short black hair disheveled, and his blue eyes wide with alarm.

"Oh, thank God!" he said. Ethan's voice! Jeanette's legs gave out and she dropped to her knees and retched violently. She heard his footsteps, and shuddered when he crouched beside her and put his arms around her. "Okay," he said. "Okay, it's okay." 

He held her tightly and she buried her face in his chest once her stomach settled enough that she could move again. " _Shit!_ " she cried between frightened sobs. 

"I know," he said quietly.

"Shit! _Shit!_ "

"It's okay now."

She shook her head. "I... I s-should have known, I..."

Ethan squeezed her tight. "Don't think about that now," he said. "I couldn't see his face too well though the glass. Who was that?"

"It... it was Jeff." 

Jeanette felt Ethan's body tense. "I thought you didn't trust him, Jeanette."

She looked up at him, confused. "I don't."

"Then why... how did he get you to go with him?"

She looked at him, eyes wide in the realization that he didn't know. She glanced at the body, then quickly turned her eyes back to Ethan's chest. In a hushed tone, she said, "He was wearing your face."

Ethan sucked in a sharp breath. He squeezed her shoulders, then stood up and moved toward the body. Jeanette caught sight of him turning the body over before she squeezed her eyes shut. " _Fuck!_ " he hissed. She could hear him shuffling around, and she gritted her teeth and turned to look. He pulled the bag of money away, and pulled off the dead man's mask. 

Jeanette saw Jeff's still face, his light brown hair disheveled, eyes open and vacant. She held a hand to her mouth and started to wretch again. "Look away, Jeanette," Ethan said quickly. "You don't have to look at him."

She turned her head, struggling to get control of her body. She could hear Ethan moving around for a few more seconds. Then he approached her and crouched beside her. "Okay?" he asked gently.

She nodded, although she was definitely not okay. Her stomach felt sour, and there was pressure in her chest, as if something was squeezing her ribs. "I... I'll be okay. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's not your fault, Jeanette," Ethan said. " _I'm_ sorry, I wish I'd gotten to you sooner."

She shook her head. "You got to me in time, that's all that matters. Thank you, Ethan. You s-saved my life, _thank_ you so much." He smiled. "How did you even find me?"

"I asked the wait staff at the cafe. When I didn't see you at the table we agreed on, I asked if anyone had seen a woman fitting your description come in. They told me you'd sat at the table for half an hour, and just a few minutes ago, you'd gone off with a brown-haired man. Needless to say, I was afraid for you, and I went off in the direction they gave me. I caught up with the two of you right before you turned onto this street. I lost sight of you for a second when you went around the corner, but of course when I saw the light in this shed, I knew it had to be you."

"Thank God you came when you did," she said. "He was... going to-"

"It's okay," he said. "I was afraid he might have already done it, I didn't know whether he had a silencer or not." Jeanette shuddered at the very thought. "I just can't understand how he managed to get to you so fast," Ethan asked.

"S-Syndicate," she said shakily. He hissed again. "He said he gave them all my account codes, and they tracked me right after I used one."

" _Damn_ ," he said softly. 

"He s-said... th-they... hired him for valuable assets, and pointed t-to his head, but... I don't..."

"My face," Ethan said. "Fuck, he gave them my facial recognition profile. _Fuck!_ "

"I'm sorry," she said again, looking up at him. 

Ethan smiled at her and stroked her head gently. "Did he speak with my voice or his own?" he asked.

"His own."

Ethan sighed, relieved. "Good. Means they don't have my voice yet. That's something anyway." He stood up and helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's get out of here."

She gripped his hand pressed close to him as they skirted the body. Though she tried, she couldn't help but glance down at it. Ethan had covered his face with the leather jacket he'd worn. Still, Jeanette cringed away from the dead man, shivering hard. "H-he was going to kill me," she choked out. "H-he... w-why would he-"

"No, no," Ethan warned, stopping her as if she were a small child about to touch something hot. "Look at me, Jeanette." Ethan took hold of her face and looked at her with Curtis' piercing blue eyes. " _Don't_ try to understand him," he said to her. "Not right now. He attacked you. He died. You survived. And you're going to _keep_ surviving. That's _all_ that matters right now. Understand?" Slowly, Jeanette nodded, feeling her shakiness start to subside. Ethan smiled at her. "Good. You're going to be okay. Now let's get out of here."


	15. Game Changer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan makes a drastic change after the attack.

By the time they made it back to civilization, Ethan could tell the shock of the night's events was getting the better of Jeanette. She was trembling again by the time they reached the main street, and she started to cry softly soon after. He gave her what comfort he could, and decided to take a cab closer to home rather than public transportation. 

When they got into the back of the cab she broke down completely. She leaned heavily against him, clutching him tightly. The cab driver looked back at them with concern. "Her grandfather passed away," he said in French. "They were very close." He nodded sympathetically before turning his attention back to the road.

Ethan held her close to him and stroked her arm slowly - the best he could do to comfort her. He was glad they were in mixed company and he couldn't speak freely, because it provided a convenient excuse to keep silent. He wasn't sure how to comfort someone in this situation. The first time Ethan had been violently attacked and in fear for his life, he was much younger than Jeanette was now. He was seventeen, and someone had tried to mug him. He'd been threatened with a knife and the fight had been a bad one, but he'd made it through without losing his life or his money. 

Still, it had been a terrifying feeling, and Ethan knew that when an attack came from someone you'd once trusted, the shock was worse. Not only had the person betrayed civilized society's basic non-aggression contract, but they had committed a personal betrayal as well. It was another lesson Ethan had learned first hand when he was much younger than Jeanette was now. 

There was no way to prepare someone for the reality of an attack. You could prepare them to fight back, and you could warn them that there would be an emotional component that might surprise them after the fight was through. But Ethan had found that there was no way to truly explain it to someone who had never experienced it. He'd seen agents quit after their first experience of directed malice - primarily the ones who had come from civilian backgrounds. Usually, there were no words to help in the aftermath, so Ethan just kept stroking Jeanette's arm and her back in his silent show of support. 

When they got within a mile of the hideout, Ethan stopped the driver at a restaurant and they walked the rest of the way. Jeanette's tears had subsided, and she looked like she was making a strong effort to pull herself together. "Doing okay?" he asked when they got back up to the loft.

She nodded. "I'm okay," she said. "Sorry about..." 

Ethan waved a hand. "Don't mention it." He pulled the mask of his own face out of the money bag and put it in its own seal-able plastic bag.

"What will you do with it?" Jeanette asked, looking at it with disgust. 

"Send it to Brandt. The CIA needs to know that these people have my face now." He shook his head. "Guess this means I'm growing a beard." Jeanette wrinkled her nose, and Ethan laughed. "You don't even know what I look like with one!"

She smiled. "I'm just partial to clean shaves," she said. "Speaking of clean, can I take this off now? I need a shower."

"By all means." He ripped off his own mask, suddenly irritated by the thing. He ran his hand through his hair, fluffing it to make it lay the way he liked. He found Jeanette, looking more herself with most of the mask pieces taken away, watching him keenly. He looked quizzically at her and she blushed.

"I should have known it wasn't you, lifts or no lifts."

He raised his eyebrows. "Lifts?"

"He was too tall," she said. "I asked if he had lifts and he said yes. Well, he nodded yes. But I should have known it wasn't you, even if I did believe that lame excuse."

"Jeanette, you couldn't have known. These masks are designed to be absolutely undetectable."

She shook her head. "I know, but... you're..." She frowned. "You're... _radiant_." Ethan's eyes widened. "There's something about you that's..." She shook her head again. "I can't explain it, I... I just should have known."

Ethan gave her a nervous laugh. He'd been complimented before, but he'd never heard anyone speak about him like that. "I... I'm not sure what to say to that," he said.

"You don't have to say anything."

He smiled and sat down in the single chair (she was seated on the bed). "We should talk, but want to take your shower first?"

She shook her head, then peeled away the rest of the latex pieces from her face. "Let's talk now."

"Sure. I..." He hesitated slightly, realizing suddenly that he didn't want to do what he was about to do. "I'm going to send you home, Jeanette."

Jeanette looked shocked. "Wha... _why_? Did I-"

"It's nothing you did," he assured her. "You've been wonderful, you're a _huge_ help. But-"

"Is it Kates? What happened today? I-"

Ethan held up his hand and she fell silent. "I'm sorry, Jeanette," he said. "Honestly, I thought you would be happy to get out of this." 

She started, and confusion clouded her face. "I... I thought I would be too, but... I want to keep on helping you if I can."

"I know," he said. "But it's too dangerous. It's not just Kates," he said before she could interrupt again. "I told you things are starting to heat up, and now they're going to get a lot worse. First of all, Kates has blown your cover. We can't use _any_ of your accounts anymore, or the Syndicate will know exactly where I am." She lowered her head, frowning. "Try not to worry. I can manage with the amount of money you've given me today and what we saved from your last few trips. But it's too dangerous to try _any_ bank now. And worse, now the Syndicate has my face. That means they can do _anything_ and blame me, which means the CIA is going to get a _lot_ tougher. I _don't_ want you caught in the crossfire. The only way I can protect you is to send you home."

Jeanette let out a heavy sigh. "How... how will I even get home? I mean... the CIA knows my face, what if they track me down looking for you? I could still be in danger, even if-"

"You won't," Ethan assured her. "I'll give you a whole new identity, a new face, passports, everything you need to get home safe."

She nodded, but when she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. "When do I have to leave?"

"Tomorrow," he said. She nodded again, her lips tightening, probably in an effort to keep from crying or arguing with him about it further. Ethan got up from the chair and sat beside her on the bed. "Jeanette, I'm _sorry_ this is hurting you. I understand you want to help, but... I've trained you as best I can during the last several weeks, and it's just not enough to prepare you for what's coming. It's nothing you've done wrong, and I am _so_ grateful for the help you've given me so far. But I can't keep you here, not at this stage. I'd be putting your life at risk, and I don't think I could forgive myself if I got you killed."

Jeanette took a deep breath and blew it out. "I understand, Ethan," she said. "I _do_. But... I don't think..." Her face reddened, and she looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes.

"You know you can tell me what you think," he said.

"I don't want... I don't think it's a good idea to send me home. I don't... I... I'm not trying to tell you your business," she said, wringing her hands. "But if I go home, the CIA will find me right away, I _know_ they will. Even if I get to the US safely, they're going to pick me up as soon as I show up anywhere familiar. And then what will happen to me?" she asked. Ethan frowned, knowing exactly what would happen to her. "They'll question me," she said. "They might put me on a polygraph. They might...they might even give me some kind of truth serum, or... who knows what they might do? I... I would never _want_ to give you away, Ethan. But... I'm not sure I could stand up to all that. Not if they use drugs and..." She lowered her head for a moment, then looked back up at Ethan. "I'd end up telling them what's happened, where you were last, and then I'd end up in prison and probably tried for treason. That's not the part that scares me, although it _does_ scare me, it scares the _shit_ out of me. But I... I _don't_ want to do that to you."

Ethan sighed. "I would never blame you for giving in to their questioning, Jeanette," he said. "I couldn't expect you to do anything else, you haven't been trained in interrogation techniques. And you wouldn't have to worry, I'd move right away, as soon as you leave. It's not likely that any information you gave them could hurt me. You-"

Jeanette shook her head. "Not _likely_ ," she said. "But it's not impossible, either, right?" He frowned, and she shook her head. "Look, I... I know you could probably get away, but... but what if you didn't? Or what if I say something that helps them find you before you're ready? I'd be constantly worried, and you _said_ that the CIA was going to get tougher now. What if I got you k-"

"Jeanette, you _don't_ have to worry. They won't catch up with me, I can handle myself."

"But, it's not just... I... I don't... You don't _understand_." She waved her hands in frustration, tears beginning to fill her eyes. "I don't know how to explain it. I guess it's just... me being selfish maybe, but... I... I don't _want_ to be put in that position! I don't want to feel that... that _moment_ when I'm trying to hold out against them and then I give in! Can you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I understand," he said. "But-"

" _Please_ , Ethan. I want to help you. But if I can't help you anymore, at least I don't have to be put in a place where I can _hurt_ you do I? However unlikely it is, it's... I don't..." She covered her face with her hands and took a deep, slow breath. When she looked up at him again, her eyes were still shining with tears, but her voice sounded calm. "Please. If you have to send me away to keep me safe, can't we find a way to keep me from getting picked up? At least until you find a way to prove you're right?"

Ethan lowered his eyes from her tearful, pleading face and thought about it for a moment. Keeping her under the radar until he was finished with his mission might not be a bad idea. The sooner she was captured by the CIA, the more likely it was that she would spend time in prison waiting for him to fix things and get her out. And he didn't like the idea of her being interrogated by the CIA. Polygraphs and mood altering serums were not the half of what the CIA might do if they thought she was holding back. 

Ethan shook his head, almost surprised by how upset he was at the thought of her being hurt because of him. Jeanette sighed heavily and her shoulders sagged. "No, no," he said quickly. "Thats not... I'm sorry, Jeanette. I think you're absolutely right."

She looked up suddenly, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. "You _do_?"

Ethan nodded. "I understand how you feel, and I don't think you should have to be put in that position. I was just thinking about getting you out of harm's way. It's not safe for you to stay with me, but I will find a way to keep you under until I've straightened everything out." 

A huge smile spread across Jeanette's face, and she threw her arms around him. " _Thank_ you! Thank you, Ethan, _thank_ you!" Ethan held her, and she squeezed him tightly, pressing herself against him. After a few moments, she pulled back, but kept her hands on his sides. She looked into his eyes with gratitude and affection, and Ethan smiled warmly at her. 

Jeanette raised a hand and reached toward his face slowly - almost nervously. She paused, but didn't withdraw her hand. Ethan leaned a fraction of an inch toward her, and it seemed to be enough of an invitation. Ethan accepted the gentle touch of her fingers on his cheek. "I'm glad I could help you as much as I have," she said softly. "As much as I've _tried_ to, anyway."

"You have," he said, speaking softly as well. "You've done plenty for me, Jeanette."

"I... you... you've done something for me, too, whether you know it or not," she said, keeping her voice low and soft.

"Oh?" he asked - the barest whisper. He felt almost as if the gentle spell they seemed to be under would disappear if he spoke too loud and disturbed it.

She nodded. "I don't think I've ever felt so strong as when you were tossing me on that pathetic excuse for a mat, and I managed to get up again." Ethan laughed - still quiet and gentle. Her hand moved slowly up and caressed his hair. "Thank you, Ethan," she said.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know. And that isn't..." She left the thought unfinished, but Ethan understood. Gratitude wasn't the reason she was caressing his hair. Her hand moved slowly down and settled on the back of his neck. Ethan waited still, and after another brief moment of hesitation, Jeanette moved closer and lifted her face to kiss him. 

It was enough for Ethan. He pulled her close and kissed her deeply, pleased when she wrapped her arms around him again. The kiss was passionate and after a few moments, Jeanette began to clutch him eagerly, her yearning suddenly fierce, as if a spark had been ignited. She yanked at his shirt and Ethan pulled back. She looked almost hurt, and Ethan looked into her eyes. "You sure?"

She frowned, and for answer, she yanked off her shirt and threw it across the small room. Ethan grinned at her, pulled her back to him and kissed her neck while he unhooked her bra and sent it on its way after the shirt. They tugged at each other's clothing with the urgency of two teenagers eager to finally see what everyone was talking about. When they were finally free of the offensive cloth, Jeanette lay back on the little cot, pulling Ethan to her and opening herself up to him.

They locked together and settled into a rhythm easily, as if they'd known each other this way for years. At first, they moved fast, almost roughly, devouring each other with the kind of ferocity that Ethan knew sometimes came after the stress of coming so near to violent death. They reveled in the basic, animal act of sex, experiencing pleasure and pain with an equal amount of fierce, triumphant joy as their bodies sang out the primal message - the only victory that really mattered - _I'm still alive!_

Gradually, though, they settled down to a gentler pace, and a more tender treatment of one another. Jeanette climaxed, clutching Ethan's arms hard enough to bruise, and Ethan soon followed. He pulled away, but immediately drew her to him. She lay beside him, but half draped across him, her head resting on his shoulder, tucked under his chin, her arm around his chest, and her leg entwined with his. Ethan stroked her back in long, lazy strokes until she fell asleep. He let himself rest for a few minutes longer, then got up (careful not to wake her), showered, and worked on a plan for getting her back to the States undetected.


	16. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette attempts to stay under the radar.

Jeanette carefully pulled off the mask and tucked it away inside her new leather bag. (Ethan had replaced the one that had been stained with Kates' blood.) She changed clothes and left the bathroom (a public bathroom at a park, as Ethan had instructed her to use - far less chance of being seen, since most of them didn't have security cameras). She found a cheap hotel (again, according to Ethan's instructions), and paid in cash for a week's stay. Then she tucked herself away inside the room, living off room service and wondering what the hell was going to happen next. 

Ethan had told her to lay low, pick cities that were large enough to get lost in, but not too close to neighborhoods where she might be recognized. He'd given her many tips on how to avoid detection - little habits that would help to keep her under the radar - like paying for everything with cash, avoiding "hot spots" like airports and train stations ("try taking the Greyhound instead if you can"), and various ways to look unapproachable without looking sneaky or dangerous (both of which perceptions tended to invite curiosity). "I'll call you when it's safe," he'd told her. "Stay small and wait for my contact."

For six weeks, that's exactly what she did. She switched hotels once a week, staying in small, cheap places. She used her mask when she went to places that had a lot of security camera coverage, in case there was a search on for her. Otherwise, she kept her head down and tried to keep a low profile. 

Being on the run from the CIA (and its evil counterpart) was surprisingly boring. Naturally, there was an underpinning of tension - simply _knowing_ she was living under cover was added stress. But even thought there was an element of excitement that came each week when Jeanette emerged from one hiding place and moved to another, those moments only served as breaks in long periods of inactivity. She had no job anymore, and she didn't have Ethan to give her assignments, show her what he was working on, or to continue her training in the ways of the Secret Agent.

Jeanette kept herself busy, reading, keeping her eye on news stories searching for evidence of Ethan's influence (or that of the Syndicate), and she kept her physical training up as best she could. The hotels she stayed in were usually too cheap to have gym equipment available, so she worked out indoors, or at nearby parks if she felt safe enough. She considered taking martial arts classes, but didn't want to risk further exposure by joining any kind of program that met on a regular basis. 

Jeanette missed Ethan. She missed being connected to what was happening, she missed his updates on what new links he'd found to the Syndicate. She even missed the times when he couldn't seem to find any leads, and she was able to sit with him and try to distract him from his frustrations - even when that meant an impromptu fight training session. 

Jeanette thought about Ethan every day during her self-imposed exile. Aside from missing the normal, day-to-day things she'd gotten used to while traveling with him, she wished she could have another chance to be with him physically as well. She didn't really have any illusions that their passionate afternoon meant Ethan had any kind of deep attachment to her - or even the other way around. She doubted she had a deep and lasting attachment to him, either. But he was kind and compassionate, and he definitely cared what happened to her, whether he cared about her "romantically" or not. 

Jeanette felt the same way. She cared about what happened to him, and she wanted him to survive and prove the truth to the CIA, but she was pretty sure that afternoon wasn't going to turn into a relationship. Of course, if (by some miracle) it did, she was also pretty sure she wouldn't turn him down, no matter how strange and sporadic a relationship with a secret agent must no doubt be.

Either way, she missed him, and she wished she could see him again, at least to check on him and make sure things were going well. But some days, when she was feeling a bit pessimistic, she wondered if she would ever hear from him again. He was good, but what could _one man_ really do against the entire machine of the CIA? Or the entire machine of the Syndicate? And he had to fight _both_. And what would she do if she didn't hear from him again? Just stay on the run forever? Turn herself in to the CIA and hope that she wouldn't be thrown in prison and tried for treason? The idea made her sick to her stomach, and she tried to put it out of her mind and just keep moving as long as the money Ethan had given her lasted.

Six weeks after Ethan sent her away, two unusual events took place at about the same time. Jeanette got a call on her hotel phone from the front desk. "A package has been delivered for you, ma'am."

"Package?"

"Yes, ma'am. A large box, would you like to pick it up?"

"Um..." Jeanette felt her heart pounding. Who had found her? What was in the box? "Does it say who sent it?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," the man said with a chuckle. "Sorry, ma'am, it says here... from John Carter."

Jeanette smiled, relieved and suddenly feeling very silly for worrying. Carter was the last name of Ethan's friend Jane. And John - well, Ethan was a version of John, so it was added reassurance for her. "Okay, yes, thank you. I'll be right there."

She made a quick trip to the hotel office, and in a very few minutes, she was back in her room looking at a rectangular box that stood about three feet high, and was around two feet wide and a foot and a half deep. Now that she had it inside, she stared at it for a few moments, second guessing the decision to bring it in. After all, the Syndicate knew Ethan's name and they probably knew all the people he worked with, too.

Before she could make up her mind, though, the second surprising event occurred. She got a call, this time on the cell phone Ethan had bought her before dropping her off at the airport. It was a visual call, from "John Carter". Jeanette connected, and grinned when Ethan's image appeared, adorned with a rough, ruddy beard.

"Hello!" she said, smiling brightly.

Ethan smiled. "Hi Jeanette. Stop laughing at my beard."

Jeanette laughed. "I wasn't! I'm just happy to see you, that's all."

"Right," he said with a smile. "Did you get my present?"

"Yes, I was just about to open it. What is it?"

"Go ahead and take a look."

Jeanette set the phone up on the dresser so Ethan could see, and opened up the box. Inside was a large suitcase. She smiled at Ethan, excited by the sight. "Am I going on a trip?"

"Yup," he said. "If you're willing. Check the front pocket."

She did, and pulled out an envelope containing a ticket to Cuba, and a passport and ID of someone who didn't even vaguely resemble her. She opened the main compartment, and found clothes, a mask, and several large Manila envelopes. "What are these?" she asked.

"Gifts for the CIA." She raised her eyebrows and Ethan nodded. "I need you to help me with a little game of cat and mouse," he said. "But... I won't lie to you. It could be dangerous."

"I'll do it," she said. 

Ethan smiled. "Thank you, Jeanette. You may as well get comfortable, while I tell you what I need."

Jeanette closed the suitcase and settled down on the room's lone, tatty armchair. "Okay, Ethan," she said. "What do you need me to do?"

Ethan explained his plan to her. It was simple enough, although Jeanette could see exactly where the danger lay. "What happens if the CIA catches me?" she asked.

"You cooperate with them," he answered.

"But, what about... what we talked about before?" she asked. "I can't fool a lie detector. If-"

"Don't worry about that, Jeanette. I'm not going to tell you where I am, so you don't have to worry about trying to lie. Nothing you say to them can hurt me now, so don't worry. You can tell them the truth. I ordered you to leave those papers in the room, and I didn't tell you where I really was. For all you know, I was watching you from across the street the whole time."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "Okay. I can do it."

"Thanks," he said. "Just remember, if you're caught, don't panic. You've followed instructions from a senior agent, or a kidnapper. Either way you can tell them the truth, you felt you had no choice. It'll be better for you if they think you were working under duress, but even if they find out you _wanted_ to help me, try not to worry. Even if they end up arresting you, it will be okay in the end. When everything is over and I prove the Syndicate exists, I'll get you out."

Jeanette couldn't suppress a worried frown at the thought of being arrested. But she trusted Ethan to make it alright in the end. "Okay, Ethan," she said again. "I'll start right away."

"Great. _Thank_ you, Jeanette. I'll see you when it's over." He smiled. "I'm _very_ close," he said. "Closer than ever now."

"That's wonderful, Ethan. I'm _so_ glad, and... thank you."

He looked confused. "For what?"

"For letting me help you again."

" _Letting_ you help? You're a field agent - a preliminary one, anyway. It's all in a day's work for you, right?" Jeanette's face flushed with pleasure, and Ethan smiled. "Now, remember, dump that phone in the nearest sewer system." 

"Will do," she said. Then she smiled. "It's not _that_ bad," she said with a wink.

Ethan looked confused for a split second, then laughed and rubbed his beard. "Yes it is, it's _awful_. But this is the level of dedication we have to have in the IMF." She practically cackled, and Ethan laughed deeply as well. "Good luck, Jeanette," he said when they'd both calmed down.

"Good luck to you." They disconnected, and Jeanette got busy.

In two days, she was in Havana. She secretly got rid of her mask and switched clothes, then made her way to the address Ethan had given her. She climbed the three flights to the small apartment. It was a little bit bigger than the one she'd stayed in with Ethan in Paris, but was similarly barren. Jeanette unpacked her bag, piling the folders on the bed. Then she set about decorating the walls, pinning up the newspaper clippings and head-shots that Ethan had packed for her. 

She took her time with it. Ethan had told her it would be at least forty-eight hours before someone noticed her. She left the apartment the first evening, looking furtively around when she left the building, according to Ethan's instructions. She went to a local restaurant and came back with enough food for one person. When she'd asked him if she shouldn't buy enough for two, he said that would be too obvious. The CIA knew that Ethan would be clever enough to tell her only to bring enough for one if he were really hiding out with her.

Jeanette spent the next couple of days making daily trips outside at random times, and spending most of the day pinning up the maps and other clippings Ethan wanted, and marking the maps the way Ethan had instructed her to. On Day 2, she checked the local post office and (as Ethan had told her), a package was waiting for her. She took it back to the room, and pulled out a large gray box and a cell phone. Almost the moment she set her hand on it, Ethan called. 

"How do you _do_ that?" she asked.

He laughed. "Just observation," he said.

"Right, Sherlock," she teased. "What do I do with this?"

He talked her through setting up the camera, and before long it was in working order. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Of course I can hear you," she answered.

Ethan chuckled. "Hang up."

She hung up the phone, and a moment later, his voice came through the gray box. "Now, do you hear me?"

"Yes, I do, but you're quiet."

"Turn it up for me, until it's as loud as if I was in the room." She did so, and he thanked her. "The wall looks excellent," he said. "You have a good memory, not just for numbers."

" _Thank_ you," she said, almost surprised by how deeply pleased the simple compliment had made her. 

"Thank _you_. Now, dump those boxes and the phone as soon as you can. Then you can do one more meal and move on, wherever you want to go, okay? I'll find you."

"Will do." She looked up into the camera and smiled at him. "Wish I could see you, beard and all. Good luck to you, Ethan."

"Thank you, Jeanette. If everything goes well, I'll see you very soon."

Jeanette double checked the sketches Ethan had asked her to leave on the desk, and she left the pencil with fresh shavings above them, to give the impression that someone had left hastily. Then she locked the door behind her and walked toward one of the restaurants she'd used on the first day.

She waited for the food, then paid and left. The second she cleared the doorway, a firm hand gripped her wrist. Jeanette gasped and jerked back from the man. "Jeanette Davis?" the man asked, tightening his grip on her arm.

Nervously, she answered, "Yes?"

The man showed her his ID, and she easily recognized the emblem of the CIA. Jeanette stopped struggling immediately and she smiled and let out a sigh of relief. "You _found_ me, thank God!"

Agent Ross (as his ID named him) looked confused for a second, then frowned sternly at her. "You're saying you were helping Hunt against your will?"

"Of _course_ I was! When can you take me home?"

"Soon. Come with me."

"Where are we-"

"Don't worry about that, Davis," he said sharply. "Let's go."

Another agent came seemingly out of nowhere and took Jeanette's arm. She did as Ethan had directed her, and cooperated with the men. She was taken to an official car, then driven to a safe house. There were several other agents there, but none of them spoke to her when she came in. Agent Ross told her to sit in a chair and keep out of the way. 

"What are you going to do?"

"We're going to take Ethan Hunt," he said.

"But-"

"Look, _don't_ ask questions, Davis," Ross said, glaring at her. "You're not in the best position right now."

"Wait, why not? What did I-"

"You went off the grid, the Director-"

"Ross! Sturges, Rodriguez!"

Ross turned his head at the sound of the call. He glanced back at her, still frowning. "We'll deal with you after Hunt goes down," he said sharply.

Jeanette kept silent, sitting back in her chair and looking away. She started to get nervous - what if they didn't believe that she was really working under duress? She tried not to worry about it. Ethan would make it better. And they couldn't hurt her, no matter what they thought about her motives. 

Even as she thought that, she knew it wasn't true. She was an American citizen, but at this level, they could probably do whatever they wanted. Still, she seriously doubted they would do anything to her, beyond question her and possibly hold her prisoner. That wasn't the best prospect, but she didn't fear being physically hurt at least. Not so far.

Jeanette overheard someone reporting her capture to HQ. People acknowledged orders, and then she heard them making plans for a raid. A few moments later, Agent Ross came back to her. "When does Hunt expect you back?"

"I don't know," she said. "Probably a while ago."

He frowned. "Don't try to be smart!"

"What do you expect me to say?" she cried. "The restaurant is half a mile from the place, what else am I supposed to say to you?"

He stalked off, and shortly after that another agent came to her. "Davis. We've received instructions for a plan of action. We need you to go back to the house, and-"

"No," Jeanette said, shaking her head. 

The agent frowned. "Now, look-"

"No, _you_ look," she snapped, scowling back. "I'm _not_ going back there, you can _forget_ it!"

"How _dare_ -"

"Hey, you know what, _fuck_ you!" she shouted. "I'm a fucking FINANCE CLERK that got shoved into this shit by a fucking megalomaniac, and put onto the chase that _you_ guys should have been handling! When Kates came I thought he was taking me out, but he wanted me to infiltrate, and look where that led - me being stuck following orders from Hunt for months! I'm NOT going back in there unless you bodily drag me in, and that's _not_ gonna look right to him now is it?!"

The agent's face reddened. "This _will_ be reported!"

" _Good!_ And at the end of all this, maybe _I'll_ report to a few newspapers how a civilian got sent after the most hardened agent you HAVE."

He glared at her, but didn't say anything else. Jeanette stared at him until he left, then sat back heavily in the chair. Her hands were shaking and her heart pounded, but she was glad she'd talked back. She had NO idea what she would have done if they'd forced her to go back to her and Ethan's staged room. The agent could report whatever he wanted to report, it wasn't as if she could get into much more trouble than she was already in. And she hadn't said anything that wasn't true.

About twenty minutes after she was first brought to the safe house, the agents began to mobilize. Jeanette was left behind with a single agent, while the rest of the team headed for Ethan's hideaway. Jeanette waited pensively. Within only half an hour, the agents were back, empty-handed of course. Several of the agents looked at her with fire in their eyes, but no one spoke to her at first. Eventually, Ross came to her, glaring down at her. "Where's Hunt?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered.

"You're _lying_!"

"I have _no_ idea where he is! Why would he tell me where he went?"

The agent looked like he was going to explode. Jeanette held his gaze, though, and without another word, he turned away from her. Within the hour, the team had closed up operations, and Jeanette was headed back to the US. 


	17. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette returns home - sort of.

Once back in Washington, Jeanette was taken immediately to a private room. She wasn't sure if it was a detention room or an interview room - not that it made much difference. There weren't any bars on the windows, but door was locked behind her. The room was barren, except for a single table, with one chair on one side, and two on the other.

She was alone for about an hour, during which she paced the floor, working herself into anxious knots thinking about what was going to happen. Ethan might make everything right again, but how long would that take? What did "very soon" mean in this situation? And what would happen to her in the meantime?

She'd managed to partially calm herself down again after doing some deep breathing exercises, when the door opened, and two men entered. She recognized the older of the two right away - Mr. Hunley, the Director of the CIA. She'd seen him walking through the halls once, and a fellow clerk had pointed him out to her. The other man looked to be in his mid-thirties, with short, sandy hair cut in the same style as Hunley's, and ice blue eyes the same color as Hunley's. Both had serious expressions on their faces. Jeanette took a step back from the door when they came in.

Hunley gestured to the table. "Have a seat, Miss Davis." She sat down in the single chair and Hunley sat in front of her. The other man stood nearby frowning pensively. "My name is Alan Hunley, Director of the CIA. This is William Brandt, Chief Analyst. You remember speaking to him?"

"Oh," she said, looking up at Brandt again. He looked at her, still frowning, and nodded a greeting. "Yes, sir, I remember," she said, turning back to Hunley. 

"Let's get right to the point. There are members of my strike team who believe you knew full well that Hunt was not at the hideout. Is that true?"

Jeanette looked down. "I... I knew he wasn't there when I went to get the food," she answered.

"Why didn't you tell my men?" he snapped.

"I tried, sir," she said earnestly. "But they wouldn't let me talk!"

He frowned at her but didn't try to argue the point. "Well your opportunity to talk is here now, Davis. Where is Hunt?"

"I don't know, sir," she said.

"I _strongly_ suggest you level with me," he said darkly. " _Where_ is he?"

"I don't _know_ , sir." 

"Davis, _why_ are you protecting him?" Hunley asked. "This is the same man who had his hands around your throat a few months ago!"

"I'm _not_ trying to protecting him, sir! He... he didn't tell me where he is. He said he wasn't going to tell me because I might get caught, and it would be better if I didn't know."

Hunley pursed his lips and Brandt drew closer to the table. "It makes sense, sir," he said quietly. "Ethan would know we'd put her on a polygraph."

Hunley shut his eyes briefly, then glared at Jeanette without even a glance at Brandt. "Alright, let's discuss the wall, then," he said. "Your fingerprints were _all_ over everything we collected, and we found _no_ other prints. Would you care to explain that?"

Jeanette felt her face flushing. She glanced at Brandt, but his expression was closed. Obviously, he couldn't help her right in front of Hunley or whatever cameras might be watching the interview. She took a deep breath. Ethan knew that she would get caught. He'd told her to tell the truth, so she did. "He... he told me _I_ had to put them up, sir," she answered. 

"And the camera feed?"

"Yes, sir, that too."

Hunley leaned back in his chair and watched her for several seconds. Jeanette held his gaze for a split second, then looked down at the table, trying not to fidget. "Jeanette, where have you been for the last several weeks?" he asked. "You were in contact with Agent Brandt for a few weeks, then we lost all contact with you. Where were you?"

"I..." Jeanette clasped her hands together, rubbing them pensively. "H-he sent me away. He said it was too dangerous to have me around anymore."

"And why didn't you come back here when he let you go?" he asked.

"That's not what he told me to do, sir," she answered.

Hunley slammed his fist on the table and Jeanette jumped and looked up into his furious face. "Dammit, Davis, you work for the _CIA_ , not _Hunt_! You had a responsibility to report everything you knew to us!"

Her heart pounded and her arms started to tremble. "I... I w-was scared!" she cried.

"Scared of what? Of being arrested? If you were _really_ working for Hunt under duress, you had nothing to be afraid of," he snapped.

"Ethan Hunt has eluded you for _six months_! And he's still out there! If I disobeyed him, do you think he wouldn't be able to get to me before you guys got to him? I'm not on the top of anybody's priority list at the CIA, who would have cared about protecting me? Who cared when I got ordered to _stay_ with him in the first place?!" she cried, looking at Brandt. He lifted his head, but said nothing and kept the impassive look on his face. "He could have done _anything_ to me if I tried to report to you," she said to Hunley. "If the whole CIA is no match for him, what did you expect _me_ to do? Sir," she added.

"Don't underestimate us, the CIA _will_ get Ethan Hunt, Miss Davis. And you claim you were afraid to report before, but you're here with us now. Are you still worried he's going to _get_ you?"

She shook her head. "He... he knows I can't hurt him now, since I don't know where he is. I don't know _anything_."

Hunley smiled and Jeanette's stomach tightened. She edged back in her seat, more disturbed by his sudden amusement than by his former rage. "I wouldn't go so far as to underestimate your knowledge, Davis," he said. "You were at close quarters with Ethan Hunt for nearly two months, that we know of. You know what he was working on, _how_ he was working on it."

"I... I don't..."

"Those images you pinned to the wall. They were images of former intelligence agents, you know that." She nodded hesitantly with another glance at Brandt. He was frowning now, staring at Hunley. "Those images were department headshots - classified images and information that he couldn't have gotten without help from the _inside_. How did he get them?"

"I d-don't know, sir."

"How did he get them?" he asked again, slowly. " _Who_ does Hunt have working for him from within this organization?"

Jeanette shook her head, thinking immediately of Jane Carter, and of course, Brandt. She kept her gaze away from Brandt, afraid Hunley's sharp eyes would read a confession on her face if she so much as glanced at him just then. "I... I don't know, sir."

"Tell me the _truth_ , Davis!"

"I am!"

" _Who_ is helping Hunt?!"

"Nobody! I don't know!"

"I don't even need a polygraph to know you're _lying_!" Hunley stood up and leaned over the table, his cold blue eyes piercing into hers. "You know _exactly_ who's helping him, Jeanette. And you are facing _dire_ consequences if you don't tell me who it is." She swallowed and gripped the arms of her chair, but didn't speak. "Is it Benjamin Dunn?" he asked.

"I don't know who that is, sir," she whispered.

"Lies!" he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. " _Who_ is helping him? Tell me, _now_!"

"I don't know, I don't _know_!" Tears came to her eyes, and she lowered her head, cringing away from him.

She felt, rather than saw him back away from her. "You're taking a big risk, Davis. Obstruction of justice is handled a little differently by the CIA. You are aiding and abetting a _terrorist_ and a _traitor_ , and we-"

"No! No, he's _not_ a-" Jeanette cut herself off suddenly and clamped her mouth shut.

Hunley smiled at her, and her stomach churned. She knew she'd made a mistake. "You were forced to help him, but you don't believe he's a traitor?" 

"I... Y-yes, sir. Just because I believe he isn't a traitor doesn't mean I wasn't scared of him. He... he was IMF, he could-"

"Cut the _crap_ , Davis! You helped Hunt because you _wanted_ to! Like so many other people, you've been duped by his lies. I suppose you believe he isn't behind the so-called Syndicate, either?"

Jeanette lowered her eyes again and shook her head. "No, sir, I don't." 

"Of course not!" Hunley let out a frustrated sigh. "And these 'catastrophes' are the supposed proof he gave you?"

"No, sir," she said. "Or... Well yes, but I know for myself."

There was a long pause, and Jeanette looked back up into the incredulous face of the Director. He glanced briefly at Brandt, then leaned toward her again. "How do you know for yourself?"

"It... it was Jeff. Jeffrey Kates, sir," she said, struggling not to squirm under his intense gaze. "He found me after he was fired, w-wearing Ethan's face. He said the Syndicate was hiring people with valuable assets, he was going to join them."

Hunley looked at Brandt again, a question in his eyes. Brandt nodded. "The mask Ethan sent, sir," he said. "The story is consistent. And it was shortly after that, we lost contact with Miss Davis. Maybe Hunt sent her away because Kates attacked her." 

Hunley frowned. "You know my opinion on the mask, Brandt," he said, disdain in his voice. "Very _convenient_ that we're supposed to believe any time we see him doing something criminal, it _must_ be the _Syndicate_."

"But I _saw_ -"

Hunley turned his angry eyes back to her, and Jeanette froze, the words sticking in her throat. "If Kates was part of the Syndicate and he caught up to you, why didn't he just kill you?"

"He was going to, but-". She cut herself off again.

"But what? How did you get away from him?"

"H-he... Hunt killed him before he-"

"So! Hunt _saved_ your life, and yet you sit here and expect me to believe you were so afraid of him _hurting_ you that you couldn't report to us once you were released?"

Jeanette felt the blood draining from her face and she looked worriedly at Brandt. He gave her nothing, of course, just watched the two of them. Jeanette faced Hunley again, shuddering at the cold fury in his eyes. "S-sir, I..."

"You'll find that we _don't_ like to be lied to, Miss Davis. You have formed an attachment to Hunt based on his lies and you've built him up as some kind of _hero_ \- one man out to save the world all by himself! You have defied direct orders by this organization, and you have _knowingly_ aided a _fugitive_ and a _traitor_ to this country, which amounts to treason on your part! We'll continue this discussion later, and when we do, we'll find out exactly what else you've been lying about! Brandt where's Dunn? I want to talk to him _right_ now."

"I think he's due on the polygraph about now," Brandt answered.

"Good. And you gave the evidence to Yang?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, let's go."

"What about her?" Brandt asked. "You aren't going to arrest her, are you? There's no proof-"

"There will be as soon as we polygraph her," Hunley said. "If she cooperates, we can reinstate her. If she doesn't..." He looked at Jeanette coldly. "You _know_ what will happen." He looked pointedly at Brandt and stalked out of the room. 

Brandt looked at Jeanette, and there was the tiniest hint of remorse in his eyes. Then he shut the door and locked it, leaving Jeanette feeling shaken and sick and completely terrified.

~ ~ ~

Ethan felt a twinge of remorse as he shut the live feed down. The CIA had arrived less than an hour after he'd said goodbye to Jeanette, which meant they'd almost certainly picked her up. She would be questioned and possibly imprisoned, and he still wasn't sure how long it would be before he could clear his own name, and hers. 

He sighed. Nothing he could do about it now. He had to get to Austria and be presentable enough to attend an opera in under five hours. With luck, he would find the Key, tag him and have him caught - or at least know _how_ to catch him - before the end of the night.

He almost laughed at the ludicrous idea that everything would go according to plan. This was the IMF, whether they had the seal of approval from the government or not. Things never went the way they were supposed to. But even still, he always managed to hope that they would.

Ethan sent a message to the Austrian terminal agent, another message to Jane to slip Benji's tickets into the office mail, then he shut down his Paris operations and got on his way.


	18. Field Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeanette has a surprising encounter.

Jeanette was moved to a small cell in the lower levels of the same building where she'd been interrogated. It was little more than a box, with a small cot, a sink, and a toilet behind a three quarter partition. She was given a small cardboard box with toothpaste, toothbrush, soap and other basic toiletries, and after the first hour she was brought a simple meal and a bottle of water.

She was frightened. This wasn't prison in the legal sense. She hadn't been arrested, she hadn't been fingerprinted or been asked to sign any papers. She wore the same clothes she had when she'd been picked up by the CIA. But it was undoubtedly a prison cell, and she was undoubtedly a prisoner.

Jeanette expected to be questioned again the next day - maybe hooked up to a lie detector. But the next day, she was provided three basic meals and otherwise ignored. She asked the person who brought her food if she could have something to read - she thought she would go insane with nothing to do but worry. The next morning, she was given three newspapers - all outdated, but certainly better than nothing. 

Jeanette tried to distract herself from the fact that she'd been imprisoned without any of the legal trappings that usually went along with such a thing. Thinking about it only reminded her how Hunley had said obstruction of justice was handled "differently" by the CIA. How long could they keep her here? 

On one hand, she almost felt like she should be grateful. She didn't have to interact with other inmates, her guards were impassive and unconcerned. And so far, Hunley hadn't come back to question her and do whatever extra _things_ that the CIA might do when they really wanted to know something. It's not like she _wanted_ to face his accusations just yet. On the other hand, wasting away in some tiny box indefinitely, without even having the illusion of "due process" wasn't exactly the best prospect, either.

Jeanette remained in the tiny cell for six days. No one spoke to her. Not even after she read the headlines that the Prime Minister of Austria had been assassinated outside the Vienna Opera House. She remembered Ethan talking about the "un-dead" agents moving into Europe, and she thought he'd mentioned something about Austria. 

Jeanette expected Hunley to come down hard on her after that, but he never showed up. The anticipation had made her so nervous that she even asked to talk to Agent Brandt once. The guard told her (at the next meal) that Agent Brandt was in the field and unreachable.

When the shoe finally dropped, it was about an hour after lunch on the seventh day of her imprisonment. The guard came in and beckoned to her. "Director Hunley would like to see you."

Jeanette put down the paper she'd been reading and followed the guard out of the cell. She tried to remain calm, but she was a bundle of nerves, and by the time she got through the elevator ride to one of the top floors of the building, she felt almost light-headed. 

The guard led her to a large outer office, well furnished, without being overly opulent. There was an expansive reception desk, behind which was a set of large wooden double-doors. Jeanette's eyes were drawn to the doors - she knew Hunley was behind them, waiting for her.

The guard stopped at the receptionist. "Jeanette Davis to see Director Hunley," he said. 

"Yes, he's expecting you," the young man said. He pressed the intercom. "Davis is here, sir."

"Send her in."

The receptionist extended his arm toward the doors, and the guard opened one for her. Jeanette stepped slowly into the room, approaching Hunley's huge desk cautiously. He looked up at her and gave her a pleasant smile. Jeanette jumped when the door shut firmly behind her. 

"No need to be nervous, Jeanette," Hunley said. "I hope you haven't been too uncomfortable for the past week."

"No, sir, not really," she answered. 

"Good. Events... escalated shortly after your arrival, and I wasn't able to have that promised conversation until today." He looked toward one of the large chairs in front of his desk, and said, "As it stands, I think our conversation is going to be different than either of us expected."

Jeanette looked toward the chair herself and was surprised to see a dark-haired man sitting there. She'd been so focused on Hunley she hadn't even noticed him. The man turned, and Jeanette gasped. "Ethan!"

He smiled and stood up. "Hi, Jeanette."

"You made it, you're alive!" She paused, suddenly nervous, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Is it..."

"It's really me," he said. "No tricks. Do you see what you told me you should have seen before?"

She looked at him carefully - saw the particular gleam in his eye, the _brightness_ that seemed to be an integral part of him, and that she'd found so hard to describe when he asked before. She smiled and nodded. "It's you."

Ethan smiled back. "And I have another little piece of evidence for you," he said. He pulled open his black jacket slightly and looked down, placing his hands on his belt. 

Jeanette's eyes naturally followed his gaze, and she gasped at the sight of the Superman belt buckle. She gave him a face-splitting grin. "You kept it!" 

"Of course I did." Ethan reached for her and she sprang into his arms, giving him a tight hug. 

He flinched and she loosened her grip immediately, looking up with worry in her eyes. "I'm sorry! Are you hurt?"

"A little," he answered. "Just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing a few days of rest won't cure."

She smiled. "I'm so glad you're alive," she said. "Did you..." She glanced at Hunley, who was watching them keenly. Embarrassed, she pulled back. "Did you prove what you needed to prove?"

"Yes, I did," he answered. "Everything's been squared away with Director Hunley."

"That's right, Miss Davis," Hunley said. "While I can see that, just as I suspected, you were obviously _not_ working under duress during your last unauthorized mission-"

Ethan looked up. "Sir-"

"At least not her _very_ last assignment," Hunley said with a glance at Ethan. "The extenuating circumstances in this case demand that we make certain allowances."

Jeanette smiled. "I... thank you, sir. That's a _huge_ relief."

Hunley gestured for her to take a seat. Ethan squeezed her arm, and they sat down in the two armchairs in front of the Director's desk. "I'll get right to the point," he said. "Your status as deceased had been redacted. You can go back to your job in Finance. Or, we will provide you a posting wherever you'd like, within reason. In addition, at Mr. Hunt's suggestion, you will be compensated for your work from the time Kate's sent you out, at the pay rate of a beginning field agent."

"Wow! Thank you, sir! But..." She hesitated and Hunley gestured for her to continue. "What about the money I used? Will I have to pay that back?"

"No," Hunley answered. "Those funds are slated for use by our covert operatives. Since you were operating under the instructions of one of those operatives, your use of that money is justified. Besides that," Hunley continued, with a meaningful look at Ethan. "We'll have an influx of funds coming very soon to cover any losses." Ethan smiled. "So, all that's left is for you to decide what you'd like to do."

"Yes, sir. I..." She paused, glancing at Ethan, who was watching her with interest. All this time, Jeanette had believed she wanted nothing more than to get back to her normal life. Crunching numbers, chatting about who might be dating who among the managers, going home to her pleasant, normal apartment. Part of her thought that would still be pretty damn great. But another part of her longed to be part of something greater - part of the thrilling world that she'd caught a glimpse of with Ethan, despite all its dangers.

Or maybe because of them.

"Director Hunley," she began. "How... feasible would it be for me to _officially_ train to become a field agent with the IMF?"

Hunley looked surprised, then he glanced at Ethan and shook his head. "How do you _do_ that?"

Confused, Jeanette looked toward Ethan, who was smiling broadly. "I just know people," he said.

"You... you knew I'd..."

"I had a strong suspicion," Ethan answered. 

She shook her head, amazed, then turned back to Hunley. "Sir?"

"You can start training in a few days," he said, sounding almost resigned.

"Thank you, sir!"

"You're welcome. From what Mr. Hunt has told me about your work so far, I'm sure you'll be an asset to the department." Hunley's mouth quirked up in an amused half-smile. "And I'm sure we can find someone in the department who would be willing to give you more than a... pathetic, half-assed, fucking sorry excuse of a shit training?" Jeanette's eyes widened, and she felt sure her face must be beet-red. Ethan looked between the two of them and laughed. Hunley smiled, and there was an amused twinkle in his eye - a stark contrast to the fury she'd seen there a week ago. "Now. Take a couple of days off, Miss Davis. You've been through a lot."

"Thank you, sir." She stood up, and Ethan stood up at the same time.

"Will that be all for now, sir?" Ethan asked. 

Hunley looked from him to Jeanette and smirked. "Yes, Agent Hunt, that'll be all. We'll talk again in a few days."

"Sir," he said with a nod. They turned toward the door, and Ethan put his arm around Jeanette's shoulder. He walked with a slight limp, and Jeanette looked down at his leg, concerned. "It's okay," he said. "No big deal. So. Got any plans tonight?"

"Not at all, did you have something in mind?" she asked, taking the hand that he'd draped over her shoulder, and twining her fingers with his. 

"Well, I owe a few people about a dozen strong drinks," he said with a smile. "You included. And after that... maybe... we can pick up where we left off in Paris?"

Jeanette smiled and pressed herself against him, pleased when his arm tightened around her. "That sounds absolutely perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who have stuck with this story to the end! This is the first time I've posted a work in serial format, and I hope that you have enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing and sharing!


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